horemheb's musings

War between Two States - Mullapperiyar

2011-12-14T22:26:00.000+05:30

With the blockades in the various inter state roads in Kumily-Munnar region entering its 9th day, the Mullapperiyar issue has truly escalated into a substantial issue. The sharp rhetoric and unprecedented popular mobilization from Kerala has now been matched by even more vociferous responses from Tamil Nadu, in the process driving the people of two states apart.

The issue of dam is not likely to be resolved any time soon. The bureaucratic lethargy in both the states and the center, political opportunism by random parties and of course the presence of an impotent Central Government and irresponsible Supreme Court ensures that the only thing to do is to wait out the rest of the Dam's lifespan. It is meaningless to conceptualize on what would happen if the dam breaks. In the near future, there is nothing to stop the rupturing of Mullaperiyar Dam from destroying the lives of thousands. No matter how much breath we exhaust in ranting and railing about it, there is no way anything can be changed in the short term, in so far as the dam is concerned. If the dam breaks lakhs of people would die, me included and chapter closed. If the dam does not break people would continue agitating to be heeded or ignored by the political classes and media as per their seasonal whims.

Thus in my opinion there is nothing to be gained by worrying about it now.

However the real and present situation that does merit our attention is another after effect of the escalation of tensions. Closely following the Munnar-Cumbum-Bodi blockade, Vaiko, the infamous chieftain of MDMK has declared that from December 22th, 2011 onwards the Walayar pass, the single greatest trade corridor between Kerala and Tamil Nadu would be blockaded by his people. This threat coupled with the steadily escalating pattern of violence and fear mongering on both sides of the Western Ghats brings a unique situation in the region.

India is no stranger to its states being blockaded. Manipur, was only recently alleviated from a blockade that lasted fully 121 days. That is four months when a state of India ceased to be a state of India. Four months when the Government of India astutely emulated its esteemed Prime Minister in his trade mark silence and spinelessness.

However a blockade between Tamil Nadu and Kerala would be an altogether different thing entirely. For one thing the trade volumes have to be considered. Kerala is a massive importer of food items from its neighboring states and Tamil Nadu's agriculturalists are especially benefactors of this massive market. Tamil rhetoric claims that Kerala ought to be grateful to the food products Tamil Nadu sells it. Frankly when I buy a bottle of Pepsi, I do not thank Pepsi for selling me it. If they dont sell I can always buy Coca Cola or make a stiff drink of my own. That, I fear is an aspect of market economics that the ruffians threatening blockade are forgetting.

In a cash rich market like Kerala there would be no shortage of suppliers. True in the short term, especially in the eve of Christmas, the shortage of vital supplies would be a big hit on festivities in Kerala. The price rise would be a crushing blow on the poor of Kerala who would not be able to outbid for the basic commodities which suddenly become even more scarce. However there is no doubt that agriculturalists in Karnataka and other states would make any delay in hastening to fill this shortfill and capture markets that were once dominated by Tamil sellers because of their proximity advantage. The massive increase in prices of food products has also the potential to encourage a rise in the dying agricultural sector of Kerala. With real estate market in a slump, cultivation of food products could in fact become even more valuable than filling the fields and building apartments.

The Palghat Coimbatore stretch of NH47, one of the busiest roads in the region would find itself strangely deserted once the blockade hits. The execrably maintained NH17 stretches between Kerala and Karnataka would come into greater prominence as also the Sultan Bathery-Gundulpet stretches. The buyers of Kerala would continue to get sellers but the question is what would happen to the sellers of Tamil Nadu? In today's markets where the buyer is always the king, the upcoming blockade would only be a bane for the agricultural industry of Tamil Nadu. With the usual bumper sales season of Christmas in Kerala denied to them, what would the food producers of Tamil Nadu do? The flare up of emotions of Mullaperiyar coupled with the loss of assured supplies due to blockade would also ensure that dealers in Kerala would lose trust in the Tamil Nadu suppliers in the long term.

On the political front, it is to be seen what successes the parties in Tamil Nadu could hope to accrue by denying its entrepreneurs the markets in Kerala. Also it is to be seen how much the general spineless of the electorate in Kerala would bear the stringencies of a blockade especially during the festive season of Christmas. Already the people of Kerala are ruing the absense of viable regional parties from Kerala, parties who represent the voice of the people of Kerala rather than kowtowing to the diktats of Politburos and High Commands in North. The way the regional parties of Tamil Nadu hold power over even the national parties in this Coalition era is a definite cause of jealousy for the more politically aware youth of Kerala. The Marxists who renewed the Mullaperiyar Agreement in 1970 and the Congress who are dithering in their duties to their voters for fear of punishment from the "Madam" deserve to be beaten into obscurity. With BJP continuing to be a non entity, this issue is bound to lead to truly interesting times indeed.

War between two neighbors is truly unfortunate, especially one between two states as closely woven culturally and spiritually as Kerala and Tamil Nadu. However in the absence of a political and governance system that bestows any value for human life, perhaps the turbulent days ahead of us could in fact lead to a better system.

Through Srinagar to Uttarkashi

2011-11-20T22:50:00.000+05:30

The bus ride from Badrinath to Srinagar turned out to be one of the most exasperating bus journeys I have ever made. Labelled a "Daak Bus" or Mail Bus, this bus along with several other private buses perform mail service, collecting and delivering mail to the sundry little villages along its routes. If Haridwar to Badrinath took a travel time of 12 hours, the travel from Badrinath to Srinagar, a halfway point took an excruciating 11 hours. Additionally encumbered by the fact that I no longer had two entire seats to fit my generously proportioned frame, and seats that had leg rooms designed for people half my height, the very long stops the bus took every few kilometers in some random little village was getting on my nerves.

So as our bus creaked its way into the town of Srinagar at evening it was a very edgy me who Srinagar welcomed. To make things worse, our heavier bags which we had stowed in the rear luggage compartment had acquired a uniform color of white caked all over it from the tonnes of dust that the bus drove through. The only potential respite for me was the comfortable room awaiting us at the local GMVNL guest house. After checking out the two cheapest classes of rooms available, costing Rs. 400 and Rs. 800 per day, I finally chose the more expensive one, as after the excruciating ride I did not want to compromise on comfort at all. My fellow traveller however seemed displeased at the selection of the more expensive room, but at that stage, at that time I could not be out-insisted by even Odin himself.

A leisurely shower and feeling considerably much alive we rested for the night after I had made due enquiries as to the first bus to Uttarkashi, our destination for the next day. Informed about a bus being there at 0630 and 0700 in the morning, I assisted by a bellhop from the guesthouse went out and made two reservations for the earlier bus itself.

The next morning we arrived at the bus stop in time to find that the bus was filled to the packing. There were however the rear most seats vacant and ignoring the conductors remonstrations of keeping the luggage in cargo hold, we made ourselves comfortable or as much as we could do in the confined seats of yet another Garhwal bus. This time however I opted out of the window and aisle seats and instead sat at the very middle seat which had no handlebars and whose legspace was the very length of the bus itself. Though the bus ride would be quite jerky as ever and a slighter proportioned person may find himself propelled to the front of the bus every few jerks and sudden brakes, I trusted on my girth to provide the adequate braking power for my frame in case any such incidents occurred, a reasonable observation as I figured in due time as the bus became a virtual pinball machine for me.The journey around the Tehri Dam was quite picturesque and traffic was much less than the roads till now.

Roads in Uttarakhand are no child's play and the best of roads here would make any Kochiite proud of his home roads, but past Dharasu, the road to Uttarkashi was one of the scariest roads I have ever gone through in my life. Truth be said there was no road per se, but some trails the vehicles and bulldozers have cut through the unstable mountain sides pretty much like how the mountain goats pick their way through. And of course the pinball sensation was on an altogether new level!

As a passionate biker, I have a habit of evaluating all the roads I travel through on how I would ride through them myself and truth be said, I was scared out of my wits at the prospect of riding these roads. The vehicles plying these roads have at least four tyres of whom at least three would be having contact with ground. Alternately getting scared and rebuking myself for getting scared, a ray of relief passed over me as I watched a group of Bulleteers riding past. Then I saw a local riding a scooter and then I totally felt relief. If the roads are ridable, then definitely I would be able to ride. Then I spent my time until Gangotri enjoying the immensely beautiful vistas of the land.

Reaching Gangotri in the evening I was too exhausted to have any idea about how to lug my heavy luggage to the Kailas Ashram, where we were supposed to be staying. Thankfully my fellow traveller, Jayan, exhibited one of his rare acts of initiative and procured the services of a jeep to drop us at the Ashram. So we had to fork out Rs. 100 apiece but that is a small price to pay for this luxury and soon we were dropped at the front of the Kailas Ashram located near the banks of the swift flowing Ganga River. We had agreed upon that Uttarkashi is Jayan's turf, as this was where his guru Hari Om Swamiji stayed and our accommodation at Kailas Ashram was also arranged at his behest. We were soon given keys to a simple room. By the time I had freshened up the Swamiji had arrived and after conversing for a while with the pious soul we accompanied him to his Ashram located a few distance away. The night had fallen as walked through the dark streets and the upward climb up the narrow path to the Swamiji's Ashram was quite tough for me. The hyper cheery stream of advices emanating from Jayan was not helping either as I was putting all me efforts in walking up the path. However the sight that met me at the top made it all worth the while.

For several years I had been looking forward to the sight of the dark cloudless sky when I can see all the stars in the sky. For years I had been lusting to see a night sky unhampered by ambient lights and pollution. This was the closest I had ever reached to that dream. Leaving Jayan to socialize with the Swamis, amongst whom I did feel an odd man out anyway, I just relaxed staring into the sky. After a while we hurried back to the Kailas Ashram in time for the dinner.

The dinner at the ashram was a serene affair, we visitors were offered plates made of leaves and we dined on a simple but delicious meal of Chappattis, Rice, Dal and Sabji. However the highlight of the meal was when one of the senior Swamis of the Ashram distributed 10 Rupees notes to all the other inmates and the visitors. It was apparently some donations he had received on the day. It was after the dinner that we made our acquaintance with two other Malayalee travellers staying at the Ashram, two Vedic Scholars from Panjal, Kerala who were on their annual pilgrimage to the Himalayas. We spent several enjoyable hours discussing on various topics until aware of the lateness of the hour we bid them adieu and returned to the room. The next day we were to travel to Gangotri, the second highlight of the journey. If luck favored us we also hoped to make a trek to Gaumukh, the glacial source of River Ganga.

Badrinath - Beautiful Badrinath

2011-10-22T13:27:00.002+05:30

The morning of 12^th October was one of the coldest I have experienced in a very long time. Memories of dressing up in layers upon layers of clothing before setting out for Kerala School, Vikas Puri came rushing in as I bathed and got ready to pray at the Badrinath temple. Sankarji had advised us to keep our slippers at the Rawal’s house and also suggested we try meet him. Walking across the cable bridge towards the temple amidst gusts of white steam from the geothermal springs that abounded in the place was indeed a serene feeling. There was a moderate queue to get into temple and the ubiquitous hawkers, instant photographers and sadhus abounded the place. Spotting the Rawal’s house, which was described to us by Sankarji we walked in. We were first met by an acolyte of the Rawal named Narayanan Namboodiri. Requesting permission to keep our sandals outside and making our introductions, we were instructed to wait at an antechamber to meet with the Rawal himself. Now that was indeed a pleasant surprise.

The very young Rawal, the head priest of the Badrinath Temple, met with us and after receiving our introductions gave us small parcels of Prasad. Duly prostrating before him we made our leave and prayed at the temple. The queue was fast moving and we had a pleasant darshan before the Lord. After the prayer and thoroughly refreshed in body and spirit we set out to explore the town. The rising Sun had started creating beautiful vistas in the land. Walking ever more South of the temple we left the normal touristy places and we were walking amidst t regular population and habitations of the people. Looping East we crossed the river across another cable bridge and soon reached the main highway, the NH58. The highway, one of the border highways of the nation going from Ghaziabad to Mana village soon reached a fork going towards Badrinath and Mana village. It was a pleasant day, nothing much had been planned so we just decided to start walking towards Mana village, a distance of just around 3 kilometers. After yet another exorbitantly priced Masala Tea (15 Rs) we started walking casually. It turned out to be one of our better impromptu decisions. The sheer landscape was an artist’s dream. Various angles of the great Mount Neelkanha flanked by t Urvashi and Nara peaks and soon the great mastiffs of Mana and Satopanth trail making their glory visible to us.

A very comfortable road to walk on I was surprised that people pay Rs.150 per jeep ride to go from Badrinath to Mana. Why give Rs 50 per kilometer for what is otherwise a very easy and pleasant walk?

The village of Mana, the last Indian village as it proudly proclaims, is a Bhutanese settlement, quaintly perched across the sides of a mountain. Extremely narrow roads we walked through taking ever more clicks before stopping at a beautifully located coffee shop. Resting for a while being refreshed by delicious coffee laced with chocolate powder and with me downing a delicious Maggi noodles we watched in amusement as a little kid was playing with a hammer by the side of the street playfully attempting to break rocks. The hilarious antics of the toddler further lightened our mood and we walked on.

Reaching a fork in the street we took the rightward fork first. The upward going trail led first to Ganesh Gufa ( Ganesh Cave). Further up is the Vyas Gufa (Vyas Cave) which apparently is more than 5100 years old!! It was indeed a serene place and a place fit for meditation and contemplation. Resting for a while there and taking numerous photographs of the simply beautiful vistas all around we were also accompanied by two Sadhus sharing a beedi. Adjacent to the Vyas Gufa is the self proclaimed “IIndia’s Last Tea Shop”. The temptation was given way to and soon we were on the way to the second of the forked roads. This road angling downwards led to a beautiful waterfall and a rock bridge across a massive gorge. This was what the locals called as the Bhim Pul or Bhim’s Bridge, a stone bridge laid out by Bhima during the Pandavas’ Swargarohan or Ascent to the Heavens. The waterfall had a rainbow adorning it in a beautiful play of lights. However the presence of a pretender Naga sadhu who had set up a shrine in a roadside rock crevice and another shop named “India’s Last Shop” were eye sores. Angling closer to get a better shot of the waterfall I was horrified to see the trash heap that people had made this place. The abhorrence deepened as I saw several rock faces defiled by people proclaiming their loves and sundry whatevers, an act of eternal infamy in defacing this beautiful land. From there the trail to Vasudhara Falls and Satopanth trail starts. Since I was wearing only a slipper and not my boots I did not progress further but Jayan was lured up the trail by the prospect of yet more amazing shots of this wondrous landscape. By this time it was afternoon giving way to evening and we hurried to earlier located vantage points to attempt to take rare and choice photographs of the mountains in the dusk sun. The image of the golden Neelkanth, an image that had tantalizingly lured us to the mountains was however elusive.

That evening as we talked to Sankarji in one amongst several interesting and education conversations that defined our stay at the Sankar Madham he instructed us that the best time to take the pictures we wanted was early in the morning ideally at 4 AM or at best 5.30 6AM. This amazing person, a former Indian Navy officer who later worked with ONGC had set this institution up several years ago as a resting place for the Malayalees who travelled to Badrinath. In all the pilgrim places of the Himalayas every single community have their own establishments and institutions which gives shelter and succor to travelling pilgrims except of course Malayalis. Hence affiliated to Sankara Ashram, the Rawals of Badrinath, Sankaran Nampoothiri set this place which had literally become a home away from home for us travellers, who did not have luxury of package arranged pilgrimage. A very erudite scholar and a remarkable wit, Sankarji or Sankarettan as we have come to call him have made a massive impact on us travellers.

So the next day woken up abruptly by loud knocks on our door we were met by Sankarji who reminded us about taking the early morning photographs. Hastily dressing up we raced out to find some good vantage points unobstructed by electrical cables and pylons, that great destroyer of beautiful photographic frames. The silvery Neelkanth was shining ever brightly, apparently taunting us for our slovenliness, however we persisted in waiting in the frigid morning air. We were standing there like a bunch of fools staring off into just a routine piece of landscape when suddenly our wait attained fruition. I had surmised that it was only oblique light that is shining upon Neelkanth now and direct rays of sunlight would bring out an altogether different visage of the mountain. A golden crest that slowly spread downwards, turning silver into liquid gold gave me satisfaction of a bet hedged right.

Towards evening we bathed and set out for the temple where I hoped the Rawal would consent to bless some prasads I was buying for my family and relatives. It was then that I encountered the pleasant surprise of the well warmed ATMs and due to the absolutely scant queue, we prayed to our heart’s content, unhurriedly and peacefully at the shrine of Lord Badri Vishal. We then rested and drank in the serene and peaceful atmosphere to await our expected appointment with the Rawal. After buying the selected Prasad packets we went to the Rawal’s house and after being assured that we can collect the duly sanctified prasads at around 9PM we left back to Sankar Sadan.

I had come to Badrinath with two principal aims, to see Mount Neelkanth in all its resplendent glory and to see the glaciers. The first was granted to me but the second blessing was denied to me. I could not go on the trek to Vasudhara falls, I could not go to the base of Mount Neelkanth and neither could I go on the Satopanth trail. However I am thankful that I have those mesmerizing lures to draw me many more times to Badrinath.

Cutting short our stay at Badrinath by a day in view of the cancelled treks, we left for Srinagar, the intermediary point towards Uttarkashi on the morning of the 14^th. As we boarded the bus and bid mental goodbyes to Badrinath, the gods bid us adieu in their own fashion. The mountains of Nara, Narayana and Urvashi had accompanied their sibling Neelkanth in being snowcapped that morning. A truly memorable goodbye to us.

Until next time.

Badrinath - Arrival

2011-10-19T18:02:00.001+05:30

One of the most remarkable aspects of Badrinath is its ATM kiosks. While in the rest of our hot and humid nation ATM kiosks are at best Air Conditioned or left unventilated. The ATM kiosk at Badrinath is however kept warmed, a pleasant and welcome surprise in a very chilly town. But then it is just one and trivial of the many remarkable things that define Badrinath.

The journey to Badrinath began in the early hours of the morning of 11^th October as we woke up at around 3 AM to catch the first and only bus to Badrinath from the Government Bus Stand in Haridwar. Arriving at the Bus Stand at around 4 AM we waited for a half an hour for the bus to open and immediately grabbed prime seats. Making acquaintance with an old gentleman who used to be a Bus conductor in the Garhwal region also helped while away the time. At around 5 AM the bus pulled out of Haridwar and promptly into an early morning traffic block.

For what would be one of the longest bus journeys I have ever made my ever constant worry had been to reach Joshimath on time. The substantial town of Joshimath is in many ways a gateway to Badrinath. Located around 60 kms before Badrinath it is also the winter quarters of the entire population of Badrinath including the temple and priests of Sri Badrinath temple. During the months of pilgrimage to Badrinath proper, it is imperative that vehicles reach Joshimath before 4PM in the evening else they would not be permitted to drive up the perilous mountain roads of the Himalayas. So imagine my worry at every road block and traffic bottleneck that caused us to delay our timings. A burning desire to reach Badrinath on that day itself kept a constant prayer in my thoughts.

The mountains start abruptly after Rishikesh on the road from Haridwar. The vast Gangetic plains suddenly and dramatically make its way over to the ever rising hills and mountains of Garhwal. Most of the details of the early morning travel has been a little hazy for me as I was catching up on my interrupted sleep in the pleasantly wafting in cool mountain air though I did managed to pick out names like Devprayag etc. We had a breakfast of fresh and warm Aloo Paranthas at a mountain side tea stall outside of Devaprayag accompanied by piping hot cardamom tea. That was the moment I started to enjoy the taste of tea, a beverage that I had always shunned in favor of coffee. Throughout this journey I have continued to appreciate the taste of tea. My friend Jayan however was discovering a new life of his own, Aloo Paranthas. An acquaintance developed in the early morning of 10^th at the Ginger Rail Yatri Niwas restaurant in New Delhi was growing into a close bonhomie as the second batch of Aloo Paranthas are being ordered to the frantically busy waiter boy at the tea stall. Before the end of this journey I would not be surprised if Jayan declared Aloo Paranthas to be the love of his life second of course to his photography.

Rudely rebuffed in my attempts at establishing 3G internet connection in the Cosmopolitan capital city of New Delhi I was surprised to learn of the surprisingly good BSNL coverage in the Garhwal mountains. Of course the sheer contours of the terrain ensure that coverage is unpredictable but I did manage to keep track of our positions using my Mobile’s GPS and Google Maps.

The roads had been absolutely horrendous at several stretches of what only maps would describe as a National Highway. Reminding myself of countless accounts of travellers describing the monsoon travails including landslides and heavy mud flows I was being ever gladder that I was travelling during dry October when the rivers of mud had turned into mounds of white dust, which do however make the life of an asthmatic treacherous. The entire vegetation by the sides of the road was covered in a palette of white indicative of the nature of travel during monsoon. Scores of landslide locations which abounded the road made progress of the traffic very slow, but I was appreciative that slow though it is at least it is moving which would not have been the story a few weeks earlier during monsoons.

By afternoon after we passed Srinagar we were making good progress when around 2 PM tragedy struck in the form of a puncture to the rear left outer tire of the bus. At a slower pace we managed to pull by a mountainside puncture shop which apparently made brisk business of the reprehensible road conditions in the area. During nearly an hour of tire repairs I was praying that we do not get slowed down and would manage to cross Joshimath on time and would reach Badrinath today itself.

As 4 PM passed we had only managed to cross Chamoli and it was a literal storm in my mind. My reason, based on the information I had researched told me that we would not be able to pass Joshimath and would have to camp out there, my heart was praying itself out hoping that by some miracle we would be able to reach Badrinath today itself. The ever increasing crowd in the bus and the ever increasing dangers of the road were ignored by my constant mental prayer for a miracle. The town of Joshimath was at its crowded best due to some sort of religious rally that clogged up all the streets. For nearly a half an hour we were stuck in this town with me having no idea what is going on. Would we be able to go forward or are we to disembark. I dared not ask anybody lest I somehow jinxed the whole thing. At around 6.15 PM we finally made our way out of Joshimath to extreme jubilation for me. The snippet of a conversation I had heard about the lower route being closed and the higher route being selected finally made sense to me now. There is a backup route after all! Thank God! It is a climb of nearly 2500 meters in altitude from Joshimath to Badrinath over around 60 kilometers of extreme off roads. The entire countryside was awash in bright moonlight and truth be said it was at that time I became appreciative of moonlight. Who needs torch when moon is shining so brightly like that? And the mountains! Ah how heavenly they were bathed in the silvery lights of the moon! As yet another valley was crossed and the bus turned the corner around yet another mountain I saw it. Moonlight reflecting off bright white snow caps. The Hima Alaya is finally here. The true abode of snow is nigh. With ever increasing awe and jubilation I watched the snow capped mountains coming closer. A chance look up gave me another whelp of joy as I saw a fully star studded night sky, something I had dreamed of for years of my life in the polluted urbania. A few co-passengers were amused by my dog-with its head out- of the window antics but seemed understanding after I explained about my joy of seeing stars. With the weather getting chillier I started pulling on my woolens.

It is impossible to describe the effect of the first sight of Badrinath town. After hours and kilometers of travelling through the most inhospitable of terrains devoid of any sigh of human settlement, you turn a corner and lo behold the entire town of Badrinath is upon you in all its resplendent grandeur. Flanked by the twin mountains of Nara and Narayana with Urvashi giving company and the lofty Mt Neelkanth giving benign oversight, it was a sight that I had dreamed of for ages. Indeed I felt heartened about my choice not to attempt to describe it in my fictional travel to Badrinath that I penned a year and some earlier. As the last few kilometers to Badrinath was slowly being tredged up, I gave sanctity to a promise that I had made to the Gods during those tense moments when I feared of not reaching Badrinath that day. It is a promise that I shall uphold.

Arriving at the chilly town of Badrinath we slowly started walking our way towards Sankara Sadanam, an establishment that is run by a Sankaran Nampoothiri in association with the Rawals of Badrinath. It had been a hard going with my backback, satchel and extremely heavy shoulder bag making any progress painfully slow. We had to stop several times to finally be sure of the way but everyone seemed to know the enigmatic Sankarettan aka Sankarji and his establishment and finally through a small alley we reached his establishment perched on the banks of the River Ganga.

Sankarji welcomed us warmly and rumors of his legendary wit and intellect was in evidence in the very first minutes of our interaction as he regaled us with differences between Indian and American Democracy pertaining to the rights to Kiss and Piss in Public.

Laughing our hearts out, lightened both in body and spirit we went off to have some heavy dinner, yet again Aloo Paranthas for Jayan and to buy a few extra woolens including warm gloves for the cold Himalayas.

As I settled in for the night tugging in the thick woolen blankets snugly around me a joy of immense volumes swept around me. It was a wonderful sleep that night.

From Marketing Sharks to a River of Lamps

2011-10-13T09:36:00.000+05:30

The first few hours in New Delhi brought all sorts of feeling to me, amazement at the vast modernizations including the spectacular Metro Rail, pleasant culinary memories of the cuisines of Delhi and of course bitter memories of the callous cruelty that has been a definitive impression I have had about New Delhi.

I still remember that evening while walking in the District Park near Vikas Puri with my father I witnessed a pack of boys torturing a turtle. Turtles are by nature rarely seen in New Delhi however I was horrified to see the boys grabbing one limb each and the head of the turtle and pulling it apart. That sight horrified my 9 year old mind and it was at that moment that I hated to live in New Delhi. Of course what I witnessed may have been an isolated incident but it still scarred me such that even after 16 long years the memories rushed in with force as I witnessed yet another act of callous cruelty as the train made its approaches to New Delhi Railway Station. A young urchin, a scavenger of old paper and plastic things was crossing the bogey when a bunch of people who had been clogging up the entrance to the compartment with their luggage for the past hour or so screamed at him to go away. The child however walked on and immediately around 10 or so people who were screaming at him started pummeling him. Even creeps on the upper berths were craning to get a whack on to that boy. Soon the boy himself started slapping himself in what was a surrealistic and psychotic act by which he wanted to compensate the cruelties of the attackers by attacking him himself. It was however his eyes that were the most scary. Absolutely devoid of any emotion. It was a mask of resigned neutrality, eyes that had seen such horrors and no affection of any sorts. In a few years as the kid grows stronger and more able to fend for himself he would not have any qualms in striking a knife into one of his victims. He is a child who is being made into a criminal by the society.

As is wont to happen with any helpless citizen like me soon this incident went into the backdrop as I arrived at New Delhi. I have never seen a railway station with these many number of platforms. I suppose a bigger railway station would exist only in China or Russia. I had made prior reservation at the Ginger Rail Yatri Nivas, a well situated hotel located just outside the Railway Station compound. It was one of the fastest check-ins I have ever seen with my arrival to the receipt of key occurring in 2 or 3 minutes flat. After a refreshing bath which saw at least 4 kilograms of dirt and grime wash off from me from the three day train ride we set out for Connaught Place.

Soon as we reached the outer circle of Connaught Place our priorities started making itself felt and that too quite audibly. Spotting what seemed to be a quite popular restaurant we walked into the “Kake da Dhaba”. The little Punjabi restaurant and we were lucky to get in time to get a good table. We had not had anything to eat after the puny semblance of breakfast IRCTC offers in trains and so we really dug into the rotis, Dal Makhani and Tandoori Kebab. Now that was heaven! Tasty Punjabi food. Our hunger satiated we set out exploring Connaught Place. I was saddened to see that many of the beautiful streets of the area had been closed or under works for the Metro Rail project. After doing some window shopping in the streets here we finally headed towards Palika Bazaar.

I remember thinking while on a pilgrimage to Palani that an MBA academy taught by the hawkers of Palani would beat the best IIMs and Harwards. I correct that statement now. An MBA academy taught by hawkers of Palani and Palika Bazaar would beat the best IIMs and Harwards. It is not as if they have any great variety of things to sell. Nearly all the shops almost the entire set of merchandize but they do compete madly exhorting passersby into getting into their shops. The enthusiasm is at times a bit overbearing in fact with the hawkers from numerous stores blocking your way, screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing you and pulling you, quite a bit like how hammerhead sharks behave in the company of shipwrecked plump people. My friend Jayan, did succumb to one shark as he was tempted in by the sight of some cargo pants. Ever since he saw my cargo pants, my constant touring and travelling accessory he has been lusting after a similar piece himself and it seems his search had attained fruition. As a person who prided himself as an expert bargainer Jayan was bargaining for the cargo pants which was almost exactly similar to mine, negotiating from the hawker’s price of 1200 and his own quoted price of 800. I who had bought my pants for the princely sum of Rupees Five Hundred Fifty, 550, tried to warn Jayan, but he in his infinite bargaining wisdom brushed me off without even hearing from me. So I decided to have my bit of fun. Settling in for about 850 rupees and 100 rupees additional for a minute size modification, Jayan the Photographer was happily strutting out of the shop pleased at himself for a bargain stuck when I gently told him the price I paid for my cargo pants.

Buying a Cargo Pants : 550 Rs

Train journey to New Delhi : 1500 Rs

To see the face of Jayan shell shocked like that in Palika Bazaar : Priceless

I too picked up a pair of trousers for about 200 rupees and we finally resurfaced. It was now that I remembered the old Stamps and Coins store somewhere around here. Introduced to it by my father, this was a literal treasure trove for all sorts of collectors and it was in this sub terranean shopping arcade that I rediscovered the love for lassi. Having figured out the address of the place as Mohan Singh Place we set out for it. Unfortunately being a Sunday the collections store was closed and the old Sardarjee’s lassi shop was nowhere to be found but an equally good lassi shop we found at the entrance of the arcade. The lassi we savored there made us forget for a moment the intense heat and strains of tackling New Delhi. It was simply put heavenly. The large glass of lassi also served to demolish any sign of hunger we may have for the rest of the night.

Slowly walking back towards the hotel, I had some dinner and we were off to sleep, hoping to catch an early bus to Haridwar.

We caught what seemed to be the first metro on Yellow Line on Platform 2 of New Delhi Metro Station and boarded the metro for Kashmere Gate Station. Delhi Metro turned out to be indeed as impressive as was heard so far. However appreciation towards Delhi Metro turned to disgust as we entered the stinking garbage pail that is Kashmere Gate Inter State Bus Terminal. The only thing the place was missing was the ubiquitous black pigs that are mandatory in the cesspools of the region. Made aware that buses to Haridwar ply only from Anand Vihar ISBT we boarded a bus to the other ISBT which turned to be marginally cleaner, around Kottayam Bus Stand status. We soon boarded an Uttarakhand State Transport bus to Haridwar for what would turn out to be a nearly 8 hour journey.

Initially all was well but then we got stuck in a massive traffic block at Modinagar. The amount of dust I inhaled from this dust bowl would have been enough for Dubai to dredge out another Palm Jumeirah. After innumerable more delays we finally arrived at Haridwar Bus Stand. I had already figured out the location of the Haridwar Ayyappa Temple from Google Earth so without much issue we arrived at the cozily located temple and inn. After depositing our bags in the room and after a nice bath we set out for the Har ki Puri Ghat to witness the dusk Aarati. Navigating our way through the insanely crowded streets of Haridwar we first stopped at a small restaurant to have some food. It was a good Thali meals and I could easily let my hunger block out the sights of rats and mice scurrying around the tiny restaurant.

Hunger satiated we walked out to the Har ki Puri ghat. After washing the hands, feet and face in the chilling cold Ganga at the Ghat we took out our cameras to start taking shots. My inexperience and lack of skill in handling the Canon 300 D was making itself more and more obvious. Soon as the Aarati started getting into full swing we decided to walk off and beat the crowds. Jayan the consummate shopaholic immediately started window shopping. For ages he had been looking for a camera bag and despite my suggestions on going for a sturdy and reliable Wildcraftg bag he insisted on looking for something cheaper. While window shopping the streets I also made a fool of myself by buying a camera pouch which after I bought it turned out not to serve the intention I had for it, a loss of around 250 rupees.

Jayan finally walked into a shop run by two old shopkeers who were bringing out bags from the wood work hoping to satisfy what I am sure must have been the most picky customer to have walked into their shop ever. After one person exhausted his entire inventory trying to satisfy Jayan, the other person brought out three other models which drew Jayan away. As I watched the first seller threw away his bags in extreme disgust and irritation. However it was from him that Jayan bought the bag finally.

After some exhausting more hours of shopping for various woolens for our stay at Badrinath we finally walked into a tiny shop run by an old Punjabi who made some delicious lassi for us. As in Delhi the previous night, this time too the lassi demolished any craving for dinner. It was thus sated that we walked back to our inn. Since we had to leave for the bus stand very early in the morning next day we settled the dues for our rooms. The rate for a two bed room was just 200 rupees!

Bracing myself to wake up at around 3.30 AM the next morning to catch the first bus to Badrinath I went to sleep. My dream destination is nearly at hand and I could not let any delays or obstructions in attaining it.

Machine Gun Maami and Grandma Maami

2011-10-09T22:22:00.000+05:30

The first time we saw them were when the Grandma Maami and her husband boarded the train at Palghat and immediately saw her husband get into a scuffle with the hot and rude foreigner lady in our compartment over her appropriating the windows seats reserved by them. While the senior uncle got ballistic with their hapless son helplessly trying to make peace, the old gentle lady was keeping her peace.

The second full day of the journey while engaging in one of our conversations on Advaita, Mandukya Upanishad, Matrix movie and GTA San Andreas the Grandma Maami overheard our discussion on the Butterfly Dilemma and joined in to our great joy. Apparently a great follower of Ramana Maharshi and a disciple of Nochur Venkitaraman she was apparently reading some works on Advaita at the very moment of our discussion and the serendipity was too intense even to risk violating her husband’s strict orders not to talk to anyone. A pleasant conversation ensued that could be continued only in the fag end of her journey nearing Mathura where we conversed freely on our travels and destinations and matters of mutual interest. An intensely private and serene woman she greatly reminded me of my own maternal grandmother who passed away several years ago.

However the more prominent character of this story boarded the train only that night at Coimbatore and though her entry was rather subdued the rest of the days and nights were dominated by this feisty old lady, whom we dubbed “Machine Gun Maami” for her rat-a-tat talkathon with the poor Grandma Maami. In the previous blog I have already told about how she terrorized several unreserved encroachers for daring to sit on the compartment floor blocking their access. This fiery temper came to full stride on the second night of our journey to New Delhi, the night when we passed through Maharashtra.

That night several unreserved passengers fell victim to the sheer fury of this indomitable little old woman who yelled and scolded the hell out of the unreserved passengers who dared sleep on the corridors blocking the passage of these women to the toilet. She did have merit in what she is saying, one is after all well aware of the several unscruples committed by unreserved passengers in harassing bonafide passengers. One particular person tried every trick in the rule book and then some to ward off the scoldings of this Maami, but who stands a chance in front of Machinegun Maami in full throttle. Sleep deprived as I was already cramped up in the Side Lower sleeper berth, in an Indian Railways that has always been adversely prejudiced towards people of a loftier disposition, it was a night full of entertainment to make the sleep deprived train journey much more bearable.

This tirade continued throughout her journey even until her departure stop at Mathura. Even though at times she did seem to be an overbearing, unreasonable and insensitive senile old lady, her final moments of interaction with us gave glimpses of a soul much more loftier than we had ever imagined. While my friend, Jayan the Photographer congratulated her on her bravery in handling those intruders, she said all was in jest as part of one enjoying her retired life. Her answer to Jayan’s question of what profession she had retired from left us speechless and awestruck.

“Housewife Aayirunthen. Full life naanoru Kaaidi aayirunthen. Ippo thaan viduthalai kedachathu.”

“I have been a housewife all my life. Nearly all my life I served the life of a prisoner. Now only I secured my freedom.”

Simple words from a simple woman, but has the depth and weight of a lifetime of truth. The story of every Indian woman, a life of servitude, first serving her parents, then her husband and then her children. Having dutifully completed her penal servitude upto what we believe the maturity of her children as adults of their own means and death of her husband, who loving while he may be in his own means was the enforcer of a harsh life of servitude for her. Now unshackled by all such duties she is finally free to live a life of her own, starting at roughly 70+.

Understanding this perspective it is possible for me to empathize with why she had been a terror through this trip. A lifetime of suppressed rage and humiliation venting its way out towards those who threaten her few years of freedom and happiness. A lifetime of things unsaid finding its way out in a torrent of conversation that swept the gentle old Grandma Maami to the heights of exasperation. Empathize though we do with her, I am still thankful to Jayan that he only chose to express his admiration as the train chugged into the Mathura Station. Else we too would have been victims of Machinegun Maami.

Throwing a coin into the Krishna River

2011-10-08T12:11:00.000+05:30

It has been a regular routine whenever I traveled in the Kerala Express that whenever I reach Vijayawada Railway Station I throw a coin into the massive Krishna River as the train chugged along the bridge. A habit I learned from my father who used to help me throw the coins accurately into the swirling waters below, it is one that is still quite cherished as one of the landmarks of the New Delhi - Kerala train ride. This is a habit which I have resumed after a gap of nearly 18 years.

Running about 2 hours late, the Kerala Express has just pulled into the Vijayawada Railway Station and October heat is really turning out to be quite stifling. A strange lemon scent floats around the station, no idea from where, as I am starting the blog-a-thon for this ride.

The last week had been an exercise of the utmost strain. On one hand excitement of having finally about to embark on a journey that I have been dreaming for ages, and on the other hand my studied subduing of passions using my innate pessimistic realism where I was gearing up for some mishap or other that would get this trip cancelled. The trepidation came a shade closer to becoming real as a few days before the trip, my father had some liver issues that necessitated a checkup. At the advent of symptoms itself I had mentally geared myself for cancelling the trip, but thanks to God's grace it was a false alarm and he came out of the checkup diagnosed as quite healthy.

My older self would have been actually gushing with excitement during the wait for the train at Ernakulam Junction Railway Station not the least as the train chugged out of the city. However it was with a welcome detachment that I have been able to take this journey, a detachment that I believe would only lend greater sweetness to this dream journey.

It has been an interesting mix of co-passengers so far. The night was replete with several verbal scuffles amongst the passengers based on seating and bedding issues. A foreign tourist couple in the adjacent compartment has a particularly rowdy female who albeit her stunningly hot looks is quite scathing in her behavior with other passengers. Then the old lady who scolded out several hikers for talking latte into the night and sleeping on the compartment floor. I almost expected her verbal spat with the hot foreigner over ceiling fan to get really acerbic, but old Tamilian lady showed far greater grace.

Waking up to the Tirupati hills shrouded in the morning dawn was a beautiful wake up call for me. Taking the sleepy calmness of the dawn I did my routine internet activities, a habit nay addiction, that I have found to be quite troublesome as I found that my hands hurt while writing in my journal folder and an entire evening without laptop or internet access driving me to the depths of boredom. At least I have my mnemonics to keep me busy.

But now as the train is slowly pulling out of the Vijayawada station I can let my excitement out. This trip is not a pilgrimage, though I am in fact heading to Badrinath. This trip is not exactly an adventure trip. The best way to describe this trip is as a reconnoiter. A reconnoiter of what, the reader may ask, but that is a question better explored than explained over the coming days and the intermittent posts. After all any attempt at putting words to my goals right now would only invite ridicule and laughter from near and dear who "know" me.

Hence for now this post limits itself to a travelogue. Here is to the hope that the heat does not get debilitating and the lost hours would be made up before we reach Delhi. After all I do not want to miss the Lassi !

My Dream Girl

2011-08-07T13:12:00.001+05:30

If ever I said to any of my friends that I am a romantic they would not hesitate for two seconds before retorting with "In your dreams." Well, it is true. In reality I am as romantic as Great Wall of China. However in the premise of this dream I am surprisingly a romantic!

There are dreams that are so effervescent that the moment you wake up, all memories and recollections of it are lost. Then there are dreams that linger on for a while with its memories fading by the hour. Then there are some dreams, the rarest of dreams that literally jolt you, dreams so memorable that you wish you never had woken up. Dreams so poignant that you strive hard to keep those memories cherished.

Yesterday I had one such crazy dream. I dont remember the hows, the whys , the wheres etc of the start of the dream but I do remember me being on a crazy escapade trying to help a girl who was trapped in a prostitution ring escape from her tormentors. Contrary to the usual persona of women in such circumstances who are shocked, brutalized and traumatized this was a particularly cheery, chirrupy and a non stop chatterbox of a woman! In my customary seriousness I remember several times I had to rebuke her to shut up lest she gave away our positions. Trains, bus and countless other vehicles later I finally am travelling with her in a rickety autorickshaw. To hide her, I have made her wear a shawl over her head and since we are going over an area patrolled by the goons, I made her recline her head on my lap. Bang comes a naughty retort from her accusing me laughingly of ulterior motives for doing that but she does obey. And now in an increasingly colorful montage is the sight of me stroking her face tenderly. And the next moment as I wonder about how to take her to freedom in a Royal Enfield Bullet I "borrow" from someone, I wake up.

I have never cursed my bladders as I did at that time.

I went back to bed, tried to relive the dream which was so fresh and vibrant in my mind, but the magic was gone. Yes, my imagination could recreate the whole thing, but now the girl near me seems something artificial. The personality that she had earlier is no longer there and instead what I have is an automaton under my control.

It was at that moment I wondered how in the hell could a product of my mind, a character of my dream have such poignant personality! This is not the visualization of a character I have met anywhere, either in reality or in any form of media! Constrained as I am in a perennial lack of mingling with the fairer sex I find it strange how such a vibrant female personality came as a figment of my dreamverse!

I dont know whether I would meet any such person in my life, I am not even sure if the circumstances of my dream is something I want to live in reality. But one thing is for sure. On this cool Sunday I am going to take my first opportunity to get back to sleep so that at least in that way I could continue to be with my dream girl. Especially since that is the only way I could be a romantic.

Wayanad Ride - Day Three - Return

2011-07-18T22:13:00.000+05:30

It is easy for a person bored at a traffic jam or stuck behind a computer or clinging on to a bus to dream of a long solitary ride to some exotic destination. It is easy to dream about embarking on a 300 odd kilometer ride when your body is healthy and mind lucid. If at these times you are asked about how you would feel about a 400 km ride, you would be enthusiastic. But the key question is would you answer the same in the last ten kilometers after a 400 kilometer ride, 18 continuous hours of wakefulness of which 15 hours have been spent on the road with all the 15 hours being drenched and nearly 12 hours through non stop rains? Would you be enthusiastic about a long ride when your eyes are burning with driving at night with rains battering your naked eyes and your body's unspeakable parts aching and sore all over? You dont have to answer right now, read on and make up your mind.

The third day of the Wayanad Inter State Get To Gether dawned for me at 5 AM as I got up to see our friend Navin gearing up for his solo return ride home. I dispensed away with a bath, deeming it an unnecessary hassle. Geared and ready to leave, I bid a few awake xBHP'ians good bye and set off into the misty cool Wayanad countryside at 6 AM. I had planned the route in detail the previous night itself and the landmark from where I had to turn right to reach Mananthavady was being mentally recited again and again. So with no hassle I found the deviation and the fun truly started.

In the early hours of the day the ride through the country side roads from Sultan Bathery to Wayanad was nothing short of miraculous! Surrounded on both sides by dense greenery and occasional plantations it was simply a joy to ride on. The roads were surprisingly good with clearly marked distance information at regular intervals. The stomach was yearning for a glass of hot tea or coffee but on this Sunday morning no shops were open. The visual delights of the route however obviated any hunger pangs from being too evident. Taking deviations from Panamaram and scouting my route through Mananthavady town I finally was on the road leading to Thirunelli, Kuruva Island and Mysore.

As the kilometers went by the scenery became more and more denser and to me , slightly scary. My dear cousin brother had so lucidly warned me about heightened elephant activity in the region and especially about a rogue bull elephant he had apparently seen the previous day. Mindful of the scant chance a biker has of survival when faced against a wild elephant my trepidation was not little especially as I saw masses of bamboo thickets uprooted by the sides of the roads, an act of power which I attributed to the wild elephant herds roaming in these parts of the Nilgiris.

As I took the leftward deviation just after crossing into Karnataka border my senses were more and more heightened. Mindful of every sound, watchful of every corners all the while navigating through heavily cratered Ghat roads it was a tense ride. However in a short while a Tata Indica car overtook me and from then on I stuck to its rear, maintaining position behind it all the way to Thirunelli. An idiot Maruti 800'er did however mar the joy of riding through verdant green forests by repeated honking and even though I repeatedly gave abundant room for him to overtake the prized jackass did not know how to maintain a faster pace nor to overtake.

However as the cratered stretches gave way to some beautiful stretches of smooth roads I built up my speed and enjoyed the scenery abundantly. As I neared Thirunelli I saw the resort my cousin was staying at but decided to stop at the temple first. Parking my bike in front of a row of buses, vans and cars as the lone biker I must have presented a strange figure clad in my armored riding gear and putting a coin in the temple's offering receptacle (Bhandaram).

After taking a few clicks on my mobile phone I retraced my route to the Agraharam Cottages. The narrow cobbled path down from the road to cottage was extremely slippery and it was only with great concentration that I negotiated my Hunk down the path. Having parked my bike and being escorted to my cousin's cottage I spent some time resting and getting acquainted with three of his colleagues.

After enjoying a welcome cup of tea and sumptuous breakfast we started off on a small trek to a nearby jungle stream. My worn Army boots have zero grip and I am in constant threat of skidding and falling even in the best of pucca tarmac. So imagine my plight as I trekked down the soft and skiddy Wayanadan clay wearing my boots, Fox knee guards and my Cramster K2K 2.0 jacket in a continuously pouring rainfall? After negotiating the downward slope through plantations we negotiated a muddy jeep trail and finally we neared the jungle stream.

The spectacularly beautiful jungle stream had a peculiar kind of bridge spanning across it. From our bank a concrete bridge extended halfway across the river span from where an improvised bamboo bridge connected to the other bank. Our helpful guide informed us that the other half of the concrete bridge was blown away in the previous monsoon in a flashflood in the stream. Sure enough downstream we could see massive concrete boulders broken away by the fury of a stream that was for the moment quite placid. A massive tree was also banked by the remaining half of the concrete bridge providing excellent scenery and also reminding us of the potential force that this stream could assume. As we looked upstream in half horror, half expectation our guide informed that these flash floods come only after about two or three days of continuous rainfall. And it had been raining continuously for at least the past three days that I had spent in Wayanad.

As our more nimble friends went to the other bank and to the forest me and my similarly herculean cousin brother stayed and enjoyed the vistas around us. After a while we trekked a while further up the river bank to visit a jungle resort, a seasonal resort smack in the middle of verdant greenery. The beer bottles arranged in a corner, indicative of recent occupants also brought to mind vastly interesting possibilities for the place.

After some time here we started trekking back to the resort. The going as usual was still more tough for me as the prospect of riding back to Cochin was looming ever largely in front of me. The prospect of skidding was also ever large and a small skid while walking from the Resort's restaurant to the cottage also drove home the fact that my shoes have to be replaced.

At around 11.30 having bid good bye to my cousin and his colleagues I set out on my return ride. My cousin had instructed me to wait for some other vehicle to take the lead but after waiting for a minute by the roadside I decided that this is another moment of casual disobedience and started off. The return ride to the Mysore Highway was even more enjoyable than the ride up after my cousin informed me that all those uprooted bamboo thickets were the work of JCBs the previous day and not elephants as I had so luridly imagined. It was while reaching the junction that I noticed the sign board indicating Kuruva Island - 6 kms. Having come this far, why not a short jaunt! So I revved on up the road to Kuruva Island, a beautiful tarmac and a far cry different from the potholed road to Thirunelli. The steep descent to the Kabini River also added to the thrill of the ride. However the Kabini River had been swollen in the rains and nobody were permitted to the island, whose charms I was and am blissfully unaware of. Having taken a few clicks and a call home to give a status and location update later I set off on my return ride proper.

Having come to Wayanad via the Thamarassery Churam on Day One, I had decided earlier on that I would be returning via the Periya Churam. From Mananthavady, which had gotten far more crowded than it was in the morning I found the Kannur road which goes through the Periya pass.

The farmlands of Mananthavady soon gave way to plantations that dotted the countryside as I followed the beautiful Mananthavady- Kannur road. The rain which had by now slowed down to a drizzle only added to the beauty of the ride as it gave a pleasant undertone to the subdued purring of my Hunk. Stopping for a while near Boy's Town I had some delicious coffee and Ullivada, Parippuvada and Pazhampori from the tea stall.

Having given much needed recuperation to my sore backsides and gotten fresh on the crispy cool mountain air I set off in a brisk pace. Stopping at Periya to buy some tea for home I was soon negotiating the Periya Churam which was dark, green and cool, even at 2 PM in the afternoon. Soon I was riding through the Aaralam forest bracing myself for the plains and its associated humidity which would soon hit me in force and did so from Kannavam. Now I had to remain mindful of the traffic and usual road idiots who make life hellish for any sensible rider. As soon as I left Wayanad District and entered Kannur District roads also started deteriorating in quality. Perhaps it is due to the extreme infestation of Communism and Marxism in Kannur that roads here are so poorly maintained.Perhaps the die hard communists of Kannur wanted to recreate a Road of Bones, the dreaded road which is such a hallmark of Soviet Russian entrepreneurship!

Politics however took a backseat as I reached Thalassery and the hunger pangs became more and more obvious. It was while attending a call from home that I was even aware that the time had been 4 PM! Reaching Mahe after filling the fuel tank to the full I hunted for a good non BAR restaurant while negotiating the extremely horrible roads of the Union Territory. Just out of Mahe I did meet Vineeth Areth a fellow xBHP'ian who was now returning from Wayanad. It was a surprise meeting but soon we were each on our different ways. Loaded up on extra cash at a nearby ATM it was however only at Vadakara that I could have some food. At the Indian Coffee House in Vadakara I had a heavy lupper (lunch-supper) and was soon on the way.

By now my exhaustion was starting to become more pronounced but I had decided that I would reach Cochin.The 250 kilometers to Cochin was a morale buster so I focussed on short hops. First focus was on reaching Calicut and reaching the Calicut bypass before nightfall as that seemed a tricky road to find. At times as I drove through outskirts of Calicut City I feared of having lost my way but eventually before dark fell I reached the junction from where two days earlier we had took the turn to Wayanad. By now my Fox knee guards were biting into my calves with extreme pain and a severe thunderstorm also forced me to lift up my visor fully lest I be blinded by the visor in the tricky dusk light. As in my return ride from Bangalore it was now a race between my endurance and my exhaustion. I started fixing target points to aim for, the first being Kottakkal, a major junction.

Bikers may rule the roads during day time, but at night bikers are at their most vulnerable. Night riding, especially in a land of zero traffic sense where no one EVER dims his head lights is scary in itself but add to that heavy rainfall and extreme exhaustion? Oh yeah, it sure is fun. It is in such times that the rider in me gets the most philosophical. As expounded in my earlier blogs riding is an intensely spiritual and philosophical thing for me. It assures me of my capability to be determined, it assures me of my strength to stand up against adversities, it assures me of my inherent free spirit whose personification is always me, the lone rider. Battered by rains, blinded by headlights and ever fearful of crazy riders I maintained a steely will that no matter what, no matter how late, I will reach home.

As countless villages and towns went by I was praying more and more fervently for Kottakkal to arrive so that I may take a break. When on rides I dont like to stop every now and then. I usually stop only at the edge of pain and exhaustion and always I set targets accordingly. At Kottakkal first I drove into a drive in motel and asked for bike parking. The guard pointed me to a parking spot far to the interior and denied me permission from parking near where several cars where parked. Mentally swearing at the jerk who like most people considered bikers to be second rate citizens and the wagon driven fellows with extreme obsequity, I did not stop long. However a few hundred meters away I saw a Fast Food Joint where I decided to rest for a while. Refreshing myself with some snacks and a leisurely rest later I was back on to the road, with my next destination - Trichur.

The good roads, well positioned reflectors ensured a steady clip to Trichur where for the first time I decided not to take the Pannithadam-Kecheri road and instead drove through Kunnamkulam, a town which normally so crowded was at this time of night, nearly 9.30 PM quite deserted. The rain started picking up intensity and as I drove through Trichur City it was actually blinding. As I drove round the Swaraj Round rain was so heavy that even my blinking was slow enough to remove the water from my eyes and it was actually getting fuzzy to my own eyes. In Trichur that night I must have been the only biker on the roads. In fact as I reached NH47 from Thalore I must have been the only person driving any vehicle with less than 6 tires.

As I reached NH47 however the ride became more relaxed as the 4 and occasionally 6 lane highway enabled me to maintain a steady and fast pace, dodging occasional trucks. The rains had also slacked off by then. On the watch out for any good restaurant to have a dinner I finally stopped at Hotel Crystal Palace near Karayamparambu Junction just out of Angamaly. Refreshed by a warm dinner I was finally on my home run.

I have always maintained an edict that it is always the last few kilometers of any travel that are the most fraught with danger. The exhaustion, the relief and the complacency of being near to home and in familiar roads breeds a lack of caution that is extremely dangerous. Thus mindful I was riding through Kalamassery and Edapally Junction when the question I asked in the beginning cropped up in my mind. I did not answer "YES" immediately neither did I say "NO". A few seconds of soul searching was what it took for me to come up with the answer of "Am I ready and willing to go on a similar ride tomorrow itself?".

The answer was Yes.

In a heartbeat.

Often I had wondered whether my passion for biking and riding was merely a thing of contemplation during times of comfort but at this time I realized that it does not matter to me how bruised, how battered, how exhausted I was, for the sheer pleasure of riding, I am willing to bear it all as part of the game. It was then that I realized that the Wanderlust for me is not a passing flu, but a genetic infestation that would be in my bones forever. It was then that I realized that I was born to ride.

Wayanad Ride - Day Two

2011-06-29T00:32:00.000+05:30

Sleep is the ultimate rejuvinator. As I woke up at around 0730 on Saturday, the 25th of June, 2011 all the aches and pains from the last day's riding had vanished and it was with a veritable briskness in step that I went down to the cafetaria for coffee. A refreshing bath also brought me thoroughly into the realm of the awake and now the question prominent on my mind was - "When do we start riding?" "Where are we riding?". Deciding to get ready early I was nearly getting suited up when I suddenly became aware that our stalwart leaders were still sound asleep and there were some more riders from Bangalore who had to reach Bathery.

Time was whiled away getting acquainted with xBHP'ians from other states and also getting to know better my fellow riders from yesterday, but an undertone of impatience to get the Hunk revved up and on road remained.

At 11 o'clock the bikes started coming off their stands as we started getting ready for the ride. As John gave a pre ride brief about our destination being Banasura Dam and information about the lead and sweep bikers, the throttle started growling in impatience to let itself rip on to the Wayanad twisties. Some photo snaps later the G2G ride was on its way as in a line astern formation we took to the roads.

The sheer thrill of riding in formation was something that I had never experienced before. Weaving in and out of traffic like a multi colored fire breathing serpeant our column rode out of Sultan Bathery. Out of the town we really started ripping the roads as even 60s and 70s became a faint memory as even us below 80s started maintaining pace nearing 80. But the 90 plussers became even more far ahead with the formation agreed upon forgotten in the thrill of the ride.

As we passed Kalpetta, the district headquarters of Wayanad, we realized that a group of us have totally lost our way. Stopping by a junction marked towards Ootty and Calicut we stopped to regain our bearings. A few calls to Swas and others later we realized that the route we were on is an alternate route to Banasura Dam, with the main shorter route being through a deviation right in the middle of Kalpetta town. After tanking up our bikes at a nearby fuel station we carried on with the ride to Banasura Dam.

The sights were simply spectacular with the cloud clad mountains providing a scintillating backdrop for our ride. Roads were of superb condition except for patches of craters and reasonable speed could be maintained. As we took the deviation to Banasura dam, however speed was reduced drastically. Curves upon curves brought us to the sight of landslides blocking various parts of the road and the narrow yet good roads were also ever present sources of surprise vehicles coming from the other side. By this time rain also was pouring reducing whatever traction the tyres had. As the rain started getting heavier some of my fellow riders stopped underneath trees or whatever shelters they could find but I kept riding on. Visor half closed, I was truly enjoying the ride in the rain. Monsoon time is when Kerala is at its most beautiful and if you cannot enjoy riding in rain, you are missing Kerala at its best. The speed was barely 40 kmph but I was having the time of my life.

As I reached a trijunction indicating 1.6 kms to Banasura dam, I saw several riders stopped by a tea shop for tea. Resting for some time to get the rain numbed bodies warmed up with Tea and hot banana pakodas and for the dragons amongst us to take the breath of death we pushed on for the short ride to Banasura dam.

At the dam we were faced with the unwelcome fact that the path to the dam can not be rode upon and we had to walk a few heights to reach the dam proper. After debating the pros and cons amongst everyone we finally started walking. Rain, unstable Wayanad clay and my innate clumsiness ensured that I would be at my most concentrated best for the walk. Wearing the riding jacket, the helmet, the gloves, the knee guards and the boots we had to walk a ways to a flight of steps and then navigate several scores of mossy and slipper steps to reach the top of the dam. Sure, I was wearing enough protection to ensure that any fall would not be very damaging but still my awareness of my generously proportioned girth made me walk slowly and steadily to the top.

As I reached the top I let out a yell of triumph for once again conquering heights and believe me for a person of my physique it is a challenge. The rain had not let down so it was with visible trepidation that many of my fellow riders dared to take out their cameras from multi layered cocoon of protection. The brisk wind flowing from the reservoir tempted one to take off the helmet and whenever I did that the head was drenched in the steady rain.

After getting our breath back and thoroughly mesmerized by the scenic vistas we trekked down to the tea stall at the base of the dam. As the group waited for everyone to rejoin I happened to notice a signboard indicating Meenmutty Waterfall, 2kms away. Bored as I was with much walking and no riding I rode out to this destination. The narrow road up to the Meenmutty waterfall was a pleasure of another kind entirely. The narrow rain slick road was of a very steep incline of the type I was encountering after a very long time. Revving up at 2nd and occasionally 1st gear my Hunk climbed up the narrow road going through residential areas presenting additional hazards of its own kind. As I reached the top I was faced with another parking lot and a further path to climb on foot. Compulsorily lazy as I am I did an immediate about turn and rode down to the Banasura Dam. Hearing my account a few other riders set off to visit the waterfalls, which as our friend Naveen described was spectacularly beautiful too, but not more as we started our return ride to Kalpetta where we hoped to find some source for lunch. Little did we know that time has slipped to 4 PM by then.

Return ride to Kalpetta was through the main road and as I followed Swas down the route I realized that the road which I cam in was much better scenically and tarmac wise. Reaching Kalpetta we raided the Hotel Woodlands and thoroughly clogged up its parking areas with our bikes. However the proprietors of the restaurant informed our growling bellies that all food was over. Setting up an agreement to prepare food for 36 riders within 30 minutes we waited our while in wait for the food.

After a barely satiating lunch, one group of riders returned to Bathery and the hotel while another group of us set out to visit the Pookote Lake. Reaching the tourist area smack in the middle of a tropical rain forest setting we were only 15 minutes after the official closing time. However the friendly authorities let us in ( after all they would be making close to 500 rupees in ticket sales in one go!) and we whiled away some time by the lake side watching the returning boats. Some disgusting simian antics and a short walk around the lake later we returned to our rides and as dusk started setting in started our return ride. Thankfully rain was little was we drove down the darkened roads to Sultan Bathery. Speeds maintained at around 65-70 dropped immediately to 50-55 as darkness fell.

As we reached back at our Hotel in Sultan Bathery a slight feeling of anti climax was marring the more joyous memories of the ride. Despite a whole day available for us we were able to ride hardly 125 kms. In many ways the day saw my expectations of a group ride reach its target and at times way below it.

By the time I shed my riding gear I had decided that for this G2G my group ride is over. The next day my return would be solo. I received information that a cousin was staying at a resort in Thirunelly and scouring of Google Maps and suggestions from Praveen and Vineeth made me choose Periya pass as a possible route.

Bone tired I said my good bye to all friends old and new who I met during the G2G. Though the riding aspect of the G2G was disappointing for me, the camaraderie part of getting to meet fellow bikers who share the same passion with you is indeed something that makes all the suffering acceptable. To meet with these band of brothers, to ride with them as a pack, even if it is only for a short kilometers I am now ready to suffer the hardships of group riding.

However be things as it may, the biker in me was still yearning to crunch the miles and wander around on two wheels and thus deciding to do the solo ride back home next day with a "slight" detour I went to sleep early. I missed the group photo sessions but not to worry, my memories of the G2G are seared deep into my soul. Camaraderie and brotherhood are welcome things, but at heart I am a solitary rider and for the ride yet more sacrifices were made.

Wayanad Ride - Day One

2011-06-27T23:51:00.000+05:30

Imagine a group of men climbing up Asia's second largest earthen dam clad head to toe in heavy riding gear in continuously pouring rainfall. Imagine going on a trek in wet and unstable Wayanad clay soil while wearing heavy armored jackets and knee guards biting into your legs. Imagine the sheer awesomeness of 30 odd bikes revving past you in line astern formation, all with riders in full safety gear. If this sounds crazy, read no further. If this tickles your fancy, read on, for you, my friend are attuned with the spirit of biking.

The day started for me at around 3 AM as after a fidgety sleep racked by anxiety and thrill for the day's ride I woke and got ready for the ride. Saddle Bag had been backed earlier itself and only last minute stuff remained. As per a call received at around 0415 from Swas I contacted Titus and decided to meet up at North Fort Gate Junction in Tripunithura ( My home town).

The potent for the monsoon ride was quite good as I rode down from home regaled by a light drizzle and in a spirit of things to come our dear friend Titus was late by a few minutes. Together we rode upto the IBP Pump at Edapally, the designated rendezvous from which the plan was to start at 5 AM. 5 AM passed and went and then 6 AM and so forth. Fully decked up in riding gear, a couple of us waited out for the organizers and other riders to come up. A slight electrical fault in Jayamohan brother's Pulsar and an unimaginable wrong turn by Noel Don later we finally started out at around 0745. By now the rain had steadied into a constant affair and the line of 16 odd bikes revving past in the morning air must have brought quite a sense of wonderment in passers by as evident from their slacked out jaws and constant referrals to each of ours' brightly lit head lamps.

Well designed plans had been made earlier for two teams of 8 bikes, but all came to naught as we decided to just go as a group. Even then soon two adhoc teams emerged, the 90 plussers and the 80 minussers, with yours truly in the slower group. Though it had been barely half an hour since we started riding our spirits were quite low as it was giving a true reflection of the status of our own gastric system. Our longing for food was finally addressed as the lead riders stopped at a place near Triprayar called Valapad where we all surprised a little roadside fast food joint with our remorseless hunger. Our sheer joy of smelling food was only matched by the bright twinkle in the manager's eye as he sensed a jackpot morning for his business, a guess he did not have to correct as we all tucked in mightily. Despite rains forcing some of the riders eating outside to run for cover carrying their plates, it was a good meal which energized us for the ride ahead.

Starting again in due order we continued down NH17, the Edapally - Panvel highway which soon got confusing in its route as it went through the towns of Kodungallur and Kunnamkulam. Nearing Chavakkad we decided not to go via the Ponnani route and instead follow NH17 via Kunnamkulam where I distinctly remember me being almost the last in the pack. Riding through steadily falling sheet rain my onus was far less on speed and more on just moving forward and avoid the perils of the maddeningly fast traffic on the Trichur-Calicut stretch. Fully expecting to see the lead riders waiting for us slow turtles at some joint ahead, imagine my surprise at seeing all the 90 plussers coming from my rear!! The equation was totally bonkering for me and was only solved later in the day when we analyzed some crazy traffic snafus at Kunnamkulam which took the 90 plussers on an unnecessary detour.

After regrouping in the middle of the highway in the streams of water we finally set off. The further ride upto Calicut was more or less uneventful except for a point after Kuttipuram where I had to stop and rest for a while owing to a developing cramp in my right thigh. The knee guard I put over my jeans and under my rain pants was really constricting free movements and me and Titus who graciously agreed to wait for me carried on with the ride. Our lunch stop had been at Calicut, through some stretches of rides of which I have barely any recollection due to the pain in my leg. At the NH17 Bypass junction at Calicut we stopped for lunch and met up with the remaining Kerala xbhp'ians like Sreejith Krishnan and Vineeth. After a mediocre lunch and duly refreshed we set out for our final stop for the day, Sultan Bathery in Wayanad. Riding in formation again, we xBHP'ians wove our way in and out through the various speed breakers and traffic on the Calicut bypass road to finally get onto the Wayanad road. The roads went immediately narrower but degraded not at all in terms of tarmac quality. It was a delightful stretch of groovy twisties and stretches of straight to get the revs high. As we neared the town of Adivaram the looming peaks of the Thamarassery Churam (Pass) started intimidating me. I had not had much experience in Ghat roads except for short stretches in the Vazachal - Valparai so imagine my excitement as I reached the first of nine hair pin curves on this mountain pass made legendary in the anecdotes of a late comedian of malayalam movies, Kuthiravattam Pappu. The roads were severely cratered, at certain instances I really feared for my tyres as the rubble and exposed rocks were sharp to tear huge chunks out of the rubber. Thanks to the Almighty nothing spoiled our fun. Resting for a moment after the ninth hair pin we took some pictures and resumed our ride. The ride henceforth was again eventful as we negotiated the comparatively milder twisties of Vythiri, Kalpetta and Meenangadi on the approaches to Sultan Bathery. As dusk started approaching our various aches and sores started being more evident but before dusk we reached Sultan Bathery and after a short snafu on my part for being over reliant on Google Maps we finally reached our halt camp for the G2G, Issac's Hotel Regency. Getting off the bike had been hard but the beds in the room were extremely soft and comfy. After a sumptuous meal where we utilized the utmost and almost bankrupted the hotel for the buffet we went to sleep with the memories of the ride tantalisingly fresh in our mind and hopes and expectations for the next day's ride teasing us away from sleep. Our fellow xBHP'ians from Coimbatore had arrived and riders from Bangalore were expected in the morning. Thanks to the resourcefulness of ever wise Lijok, our nerves were smoothed by generous measures of the Royal Uncle's Medicine and Mallya's Finest.

Thus ended day one of the Inter State Get ToGether, Wayanad a day of much frustrations and ultimately much joy for me, a novice group rider.

Fanatical Activism

2011-04-22T19:20:00.002+05:30

Today we are blessed with a society which is getting progressively more and more aware of various issues and its impacts. A generation of youth with an acute sense of social responsibility are out there being activists of various causes. Be it Democracy, Anti Corruption, Environment, anything, today we have champions for these causes spreading awareness on these issues. In many ways these youth are very much like the bards and ascetics of the past.
In our hallowed history several are the movements that were nurtured and carried forward by these wandering bards and activists, who forsaking the luxuries of a settled life lived a nomadic life with their sole aim being the spreading of their cause. It may be heroic and noble tales of some particular king or warrior or it may be the advocacy of a certain set of beliefs and values. Either way they were activists spreading the word of social awakening. While these bards and ascetics had to mostlt resort to the fabric of religion to portray their causes, today's activists are no longer shackled by such limitations.
However there is one thing that today's activists forget when advocating their causes : logic and reason. Of late I have been involved in several discussions with activists which have all invariably turned heated. Some how the Bush diktat of "Either you are with us, or against us" has been adopted as the war cry by these activists. These activists in their extreme exuberance forget that their causes get tarnished when they resort to such narrow minded attitudes.
Personally I am the farthest you can ever be from being a person of social conscience. I do not think I have any philanthropic tendencies, I also find selfless activism to be distasteful as far as I am concerned. I would be the last person you would see giving alms to a beggar. My life revolves around myself, my family, my friends in an expanding radius of diminishing value attributed. Frankly it is because I can not afford to do anything else. How can I fend for the well being of some distant tribals in some distant village or some endangered forest or the freedom of some unjustly punished person when my own immediate environs is far from secure? Yes, it is a an extremely conceited world view but also one reason I genuinely admire activists who throw away shackles of career or any routine luxuries for the advocacy of their beliefs. In fact I consider myself to be the perfect layman, the sort of person these activists ought to convince for their advocacy to be a success.
But that is precisely where these new generation activists fail. Recently I had been part of a discussion on the Jaitapur Nuclear Park controversy. An esteemed activist, who was my junior in college started the discussion on the evils of nuclear power. Rightly so I concurred with him on the perils of nuclear power but also said about how we dont have any alternative. I pointed out to him that of the energy sources in the world 65% of power is derived from thermal sources (coal and oil), 20% from nuclear power and only around 15% from renewable power of which a lion's share is provided by hydroelectric power and less than 0.1% by solar power and wind power. The activist friend of mine was of the opinion that development ought to be sacrificed for the sake of cleaner environment. There the contention ensued which resulted in him calling me a troll for "refusing to understand" the dangers of nuclear power and me ultimately cutting off contacts with him for the douchebaggery.
Then there was the other environmental activist friend who considered loss of human lives an acceptable price to pay for environmental protection. He did realize in time that fanatism in his advocacy had caused his aims which are extremely philanthropic in nature to be advocated as extremely misanthropic.
The point however remains, what merit is there in the advocacy that we should stop development? How much credence can we give to such statements made by people who are unaware of the part electric power plays in their daily lives? I mean how much longer would it take for the 0.1% to supplant the 20%? Meanwhile these activists want to condemn the very people whose well being they are advocating to arrested development. Dont they realize that healthcare, communication, transportation - all these facilities that are every day improving the lives of thousands of unprivileged are all through power? Will these activists dare to go for a month without any dependancy on electric power - and that includes not using any product made by electricity too. I wont call them arm chair activists, because they do go out there and preach, but do these urban activists really realize what rustic hardships really mean?
Even in the latest Jan Lokpal issue, fanatic supporters of the Lokpal bill consider any person expressing a difference of opinion as a supporter and promoter of the systemic corruption. Thousands of people have mobilized all over India to support the Jan Lokpal bill, unfortunately not even 0.1% of them might have really understood its implications. Those of us who challenge its terms and question its efficiency are labelled "unpatriotic". Meh. Screw them! After all it is because they do not have reason and logic to back up their claims that they are getting caustic!
Basically I have only one thing to tell to my activist friends - learn from the bards and ascetics. Those activists from the past, who have been instrumental in such social changes as the propagation of Ashoka's diktats, the social awakenings brought upon through Buddhism, Jainism, Hinduism, Christianity and Islam achieved their causes not by antagonizing the lay persons through fanatic preaching but by engaging them with logic and reason. I hope that my activist friends, at least those who are in it as a life's work and not just a fashion fad, would consider this advice strongly.

If not you would end up causing the greatest ever harm to the cause you are propagating.

Jan Lok Pal Bill - Glaring Idiocies

2011-04-11T07:41:00.000+05:30

Really sad to see the hype of Jan Lokpal Bill that has enthralled our nation in a Pied Piper effect.

Having read the broad ambits of the Jan Lokpabl bill that is being promulgated by Anna Hazare, Shanti Bhushan and others, there are some very massive questions which are left unanswered and even unquestioned.

1. The claim that every investigation would be conducted within one year.

Crime investigation, especially anti corruption investigation does not happen with magic. There is a great deal of investigative effort required. If EVERY case registered in an year is to be fully investigated in an year itself, there would be the need for a massive bureaucracy that would trump ANY existing bureaucracy. Such a vast bureaucracy would have its own corruption and slow downs.

2. The claim that every case would be brought to trial and trial completed within one year.

How is Jan Lokpal going to accomplish this without massively increasing the numerical strength of our judiciary and its support staff? Is this claim anything more than absolute hogwash?

3. The proposal that Lok Pal would consist of a committee of equal numbers of elected politicians and equal number of civil society luminaries and a Lok Pal / National Ombudsman who would be the Chairman of Committee and would be a civil society representative.

Who selects the Civil Soiety luminaries? The elite choosing the next of the elite? And what is the criterion for being these civil society luminaries? Nobel laureate? Bharat Ratna? These are not awards of statesmanship. Can an Einstein govern a nation? No. People who are good at one thing should not ever be considered to be experts at everything else. If it happens, they crash and burn, for eg: Manmohan Singh and his reputation.

Now some of my own questions:

1. What is there to ensure that there wont be corruption in Lok Pal and Lok Ayukta?

There are allegations aplenty that the Lok Ayukta of Karnataka, the much exalted Ombudsman, Santhosh Hegde is quite unparalleled in his levels of corruption. Let us not forget that Supreme Court, that last bastion of hope for our people has been recently been exposed for its corruption in the form of the scandals involving Retd SC Judge KG Balakrishnan. This corruption has more or less resulted from the ZERO accountability. This Lok Pal would be even less accountable to the people of India.

2. What after Anna Hazare and the pious brigade?

The present leaders of Lok Pal movement are without doubt pillars of integrity. Anna Hazare, Kiran Bedi, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar etc. However what would happen to the institution of Lok Pal once these people with proven stature are no more? Our nation is not one of a single generation. Its institutions have to last for generations. Depending on the piety and integrity of its members have brought failure to many institutions like US Constitution and of course our own Constitution.

The supremely intelligent Constitution drafted by BR Ambedkar was soon corrupted and eroded by Nehru and sycophants, a fact which we should never forget in the context of Lok Pal . Any human institution is vulnerable for corruption, even one as unaccountable as this one.

3. So what to do to stop corruption?

Nothing. Corruption would never be eliminated in entirety, we can just reduce it and increase its deterrence. We have a good theoretical model that is very poorly implemented. What we need a systemic overhaul. What we are suffering is not a tumor in one area but a disease that has spread throughout the body. We dont need an instrument of cauterization, what we need is an effective medicine that would burn out the disease from the entire body. We need a profound change in our political system, a change which I do not know how to bring about.

Urumi - A review

2011-04-02T10:07:00.000+05:30

Yesterday along with two friends I went to watch Urumi - the new epic saga film made by Sangeeth Sivan. Having gone with lots of expectations some of them attained fruition, while some measure of disappointment had been there too.

The starting minutes of the movie were simply superb. The styles of narration, the way the movie went to the flashback were simply superb. However as the movie progressed on jarring fault within the movie became more and more evident - TOO MUCH SONGS. It seems there is a song whenever a character sneezed! There is also a song when the character is not sneezing! Some of the characters were totally unnecessary like Vidya Balan's supposed role as a mystical Mukkom, a devi deity who in an oracle like fashion prods the hero towards greatness. Despite the prophecy not becoming true at all, the even worse part is the totally unnecessary song and dance number created just so that the audiences could be horrified at the sight of a swerving and gyrating Vidya Balan in some feeble imitation of erotic dancing. The video work is good, songs are passable, but the horror of Vidya Balan's dances? The Mukkom prophesied that the hero, Kelu would become the King of Chirakkal and his friend Vavvaali would become the General of armies, two prophecies which never came into fruition.

Overall in hindsight the plot is pretty good, because 8 hours after you watch the movie, especially after a sleep which helps forget the greatest horrors one is left with only the better memories of the movie. The usual ideological hero uniting the masses battling oppression, the son growing up seeking vengeance on the murder of his son, the usual treacheries and backstabbing of power, the reformed despot being murdered off just when he turns benign, frankly these kind of plot twists are quite a plenty in Indian cinema. However the redeeming part is the role played by Genelia D'Souza, that of the Arakkal Princess, Aysha. The role she portrayed was a fresh one and it was quite well played by her. Her fight scenes were an absolute visual delight.

The hero, Kelu Nayanar portrayed by Prithviraj starts out as an ideological warrior who is out on a quest of vengeance. One of the biggest ideologies he spouts quite frequently is that "women and children are never to be harmed." This ideology even caused him to let a pregnant rabbit go free, because she was carrying children. But this however did not cause him to raise a finger of protest as the Arakkal Palace was sacked by his "allies" nor when the womenfolk of Arakkal were brought as sex slaves to the Chirakkal Palace. Sure he rescued some women but references to some women already being distributed as bounty to the victorious soldiers of Chirakkal bring out the hollowness in the hero's ideology. Despite knowing pretty well the heinous intentions of the Chirakkal King and the paedophilic inclination of the Chirakkal Prince towards a little girl from Arakkal family, the hero watches on mutely. Is his silent refusal not to partake in the spoils offered by the King his idealism? Or should he have as a true leader protected these women? The fact that the "hero" was spurned into saving these hapless women only after the little girl was brutalized by the Prince further renders asunder the hero's credentials.

Apart from this huge flaw in plotline rest of the movie is more or less good. The battle scenes are reminiscent of the movie "300" and quite well taken too. Technically this movie is impeccable. Nearly the two hour mark of watching the movie one also realizes that this movie could very well be an advertisement for Yoga. Every single thing these guys do is through some stylized yoga or kalari posture. Sure some dances could be choreographed through this manner, but every single song and dance number? At one point it stops being charming and becomes seriously irritating. Context, my dear sirs, context.

Plot wise another thing of note is the historical references. The references are quite well researched and despite not being very knowledgeable about Kerala History, I am impressed. There are several references to the Kingdom of Cochin or Perumbadapppu Swaroopam, and of the Cheraman Perumal legend.

It is here that I find myself ideologically opposed to the premise of the story. The Perumpadappu Swaroopam has been portrayed unflatteringly as lackeys of Portuguese. Sure Perumpadappu is best known for its diplomacy but its success is principally because of the onus on Raja Dharma. The first and foremost consideration for any ruler is the well being of his citizens. For the well being of the citizens any amount of compromise by the ruler personally is acceptable. When weak seek alliances, when strong project power - that is the rule of statecraft. Ideologies like protecting of the weak, abolishment of excessive taxation etc can only be followed if one has the power to enforce it. Otherwise it would be a myopic vision.

Sure the premise of this movie is popular, weak uniting against oppression but at the end of the day the lesson I would take from this story is that the silly ideologue is dead, those who placed trust in his myopic vision crushed, but Perumpadappu and those who bet on it for survival lasting prosperously through the centuries.

At the end of the day, Urumi is a must watch movie. With exceptional cinematography this is a movie of unparalleled technical brilliance in Malayalam cinema. Reasonably well taken, reasonably well laid and reasonably well casted, this movie is worth watching in a cinema theater, at least for the sheer visual and sound effects of it. Here is to the hope that in his next movie Sangeeth Sivan directs there would be less masala content and more substance!

Cheers!

Return from Bangalore

2011-03-01T15:08:00.000+05:30

If you ask me I would say that driving 560 kilometers from Cochin to Bangalore or vice versa is much much easier than driving 56 kilometers within Bangalore City. Though I am no novice to the insane roads and traffic of Bangalore City, the 75 odd kilometers I had to drive on February 11th came very near to extinguishing my love for driving. The only thing that sustained me during that day was the prospect of Aero India 2011 and the pleasure of riding back home in a day.

Reaching the Yelehanka Air Force Base at around 0815 in the morning and thanks to Mr. Justin of Indian Air Force me and my friend Krishnanjan arrived in time at the exhibition grounds. The vast spaces were filled with scores of gleaming, shining aircrafts, from heavy behemoths like the C-17 Globemaster, tiny turboprops to the crown jewels of Aviation, the competitors of India's Multi Role Combat Aircraft competition - the Eurofighter Typhoon, Saab Gripen, F/A18 and F16. The new C130J Super Hercules of Indian Air Force, the Tejas Mk.2 and of course the HAL Light Combat Helicopter ensured that my mouth remained open in wonderment for long long stretches of time. The magnificent aerial displays by the combat aircrafts and the aerial acrobatics by the Red Bull flying team and of course the inimitable Surya Kirans was followed by an exhorbitantly expensive lunch and the perusal through the massive hangars which served as exhibition halls.

When we left Yelahanka Air Force Base at 1630 at the repeated insistence of my friend for whom the thrill of fighter planes had long since faded, I had spent nearly 10 hours continuously standing. After a short visit to my cousin sister who had arranged this lifetime treat for me I returned to my friend's place.

While driving back or rather crawling through the snail pace traffic of Outer Ring Road from Hebbal to KR Puram and getting kilograms of dust into my already troubled respiratory system I decided that I must cut short my stay in Bangalore. The ride back on Sunday would be too risky especially as no workshops or shops may be open on a Sunday. Besides I had to report to work on Monday, which would not happen if I did not have at least one day to recover. Thus angering my friend for one day cut short I planned to drive back on Saturday, the 12th itself.

If the onward drive was defined by sheer enthusiasm and energy and tonnes of curiosity, the return journey was defined by exhaustion, muscle pain and sheer endurance. Starting at 0630 in the morning my body was sore even after reaching only Hosur, hardly a 50 km stretch of the 560 odd kilometers between me and home. Insane crowd at the Adyar Ananda Bhavan on the highway ensured that I had to drive on on empty stomach for more kilometers but thankfully the Five Star chocolates which I had stocked up proved its worth. These chocolates gave me much needed nourishment and a palliative to a hunger which was increasingly making itself felt. Pushing myself to the next bend, the next tree, the next township till I find a spot for breakfast at this early time I was disappointed by a couple of roadside hotels by their lack of palatable food. Finally at god knows where I saw a hotel where some trucks had stopped by. The quaint and ancient hotel had comfortable stools which gave rest to my sore backside. A rather heavy breakfast of dosa, porotta and supremely delicious omelette later I was on my way.

The relatively sumptuous breakfast now brought on the next greatest enemy of a long distance rider - drowsiness. I had hardly slept for the past couple of days and the compounded exhaustion was making its mark while I was driving at a placid 65 kmph on the nearly deserted Golden Quadrilateral Highway. I did hold on with determination to my lucidity which was fully restored only after a cup of strong black coffee and a bakery in yet another god knows which place. This second halt had given me more energy and I continued riding on.

Driving for me, is at times a philosophical experience. When one drives for long distances absolutely alone, when one is completely at the mercy of the road it does feel like a microcosm. We all live our lives alone, with co passengers occasionally sharing our journey for short stretches like those trucks, buses and cars which drive along side us.However ultimately everyone travels alone, you start alone and you reach the destination alone. The real test during this journey is invariably that of our determination to persevere in the face of overwhelming odds. It is easy to hitch your fate to someone else's guidance. It is much more easier to take short cuts. Duking it out is however the real test. As a person who feels he has more than an equal share of troubles behind him and yet more ahead of him, it was supremely necessary to prove myself to myself. What better way other than driving on in this ride?

Salem passed in a blur of brightness as the sun was bearing down rather hard on the land. It was too early for lunch so I figured I would do my major halt of the day at the Aaryaas outside of Avinashi. Having completed almost 200 kms from Bangalore now my body was getting more and more sore. Hourly stops at those well placed bus stops that line the Salem - Coimbatore highway ensured that I did not wear myself or my bike out unnecessarily. The increasing heat of the day caused me to take particular care to not over abuse my Hunk. Contrary to the onward journey when I drove at a steady 80 kmph, on the return leg I had been maintaining a steady 65 kmph so as to conserve fuel as well as to reduce strain on my body. As the sun crossed over to the West I had passed only Erode and the hunger started attacking again. The tantalizing boards advertising the restaurants from almost 25 kms away caused me to really reach the test of my patience. Hunger, tiredness all contributed into me reaching my wildest psychological phase yet during this trip. However this wildness was soon conquered after a brief 90 kmph dash and I returned to my steady speed and with an immeasurable gladness took the side road into the Aaryas.

In opposition to my first visit to the highway restaurant when it was nearly deserted, the place was now full with lunchtime crowds. With a zombie like gait I made my way to the A/C room which was mercifully empty. After ordering the meals I leisurely shed my jacket, gloves and pouch and relaxed nicely on to the magnificent sofa. The adequately tasty lunch and nearly half an hour of rest I took in that hotel was an absolute life saver. After the room was adequately cooled by the A/C the power failure gave me yet another blessing as I was able to cat nap in relative darkness for nearly 10 minutes.

The food and the rest had made me a new man. With a veritable bounce on my boots, I continued my ride. The joy ride was over soon enough as I reached the Avinashi Coimbatore road widening stretch where the traffic and dust started making me miserable again. Having completed more than 900 kms over all I kept an anxious eye on the odometer for the 1000 km mark. The thrill of getting to cross 1000 kept me going through the insane traffic in this stretch and as the kilometers crept up Coimbatore by pass was reached.As I drove past the last toll booth of the L&T Highway and drove up the small bridge above a tiny rivulet I stopped my bike to enjoy the 999.9th kilometer of my drive. Downing half a liter of water to quench my extreme thirst I silently cheered myself. Mounting back as I drove the next hundred meters and watched the odometer resetting itself to zero I shouted my enthusiasm out. This was a milestone, a much cherished and anticipated milestone.

As I drove on from Coimbatore towards Walayar a sense of anti climax had set in and now all I wanted to do was reach home. The nasty potholed roads of Palghat Trichur stretch was ahead of me and so was the insanely busy Trichur-Angamaly stretch of highway. But there is no other way than forward so I rode on.

Crossing Walayar I tanked up my bike at a fuel station with a great view of the hills and with the aim of crossing Kuthiran before nightfall I was on my way. In this stretch of the drive my pace had been a bit more faster. Despite the heavy traffic a steady 80 kmph was maintained. The excellently warmed up engine and a well psyched up me ensured steady progress weaving in and out of the traffic before dusk sets in and brings the evening panic on people. If my previous day's drive had made me complacent about the roads of Kuthiran this day's drive reinforced my beliefs with a vehemence. Feeling the impact of every single pothole and crater on my screaming, paining backside I maintained a slow progress up the mountain pass the mad bus drivers of this stretch giving me additional things to worry about. Stopping for a while at the Kuthiran Sastha temple my major stop came at Pattikkad Indian Coffee House where I once again stopped for refreshments.

As I left Pattikkad the dusk had set in and the night was fast approaching. Cutting down the throttle I maintained a more cautious drive henceforth. The Trichur bypass was negotiated in a haze of tiredness, headlights and flies and the Trichur Angamaly was a continuing test of endurance. The insane potholes at the Kodakara deviation made me want to cry out in pain. A short water break at Angamaly was ineffectual in soothing my sore muscles.

As I reached my home and struggled to finally dismount from my bike, the time was 2030. The total distance driven was 1195 kms.

Though I had to endure scoldings and remonstrations from family, friends and other concerned people, though even now I am suffering from the resurgence of my chest infection, I do not regret this ride. Apart from fulfilling several years worth of fantasies it has also given me a new dose of courage to win against myself. I also proved to myself that I have within me the spirit of a tourer. While other people have been riling me for riding such a long distance when cars, buses, trains and even planes are available, I am already ruminating on the next long drive. It may not be soon, but it will happen, so long as the wanderlust burns inside me.

Garden City Drive - Day One

2011-02-15T12:18:00.000+05:30

Three principal reasons defined my travel to Bangalore - Drive, Drink and AeroIndia.

As a passionate student of Military History and with an interest towards most things military AeroIndia has long been something I have been wanting to participate. The biennial event sees the best aircrafts of the world come together and is a showcase of cutting edge defense technologies. I could not get the tickets for AeroIndia 2009 and had to watch the flying displays from near the Yelahanka lake. This year I was determined to visit the AeroIndia in its entirety. Thus I had no qualms in dishing out 1500 bucks for a business visitor pass. Convincing a friend of mine to fork out the same money was also easier as he too turned out to be an aviation enthusiast.

Ever since I was transferred out from Bangalore to my home town of Cochin, I had been under a self imposed dry spell. Thus it was with great anticipation that I was returning to Bangalore, the home of Kingfisher, the land of Vijay Mallya - the beer king of the world.

The drive is simple. Ailing from a severe dose of wanderlust and an almost incurable desire for long distance biking, the 560 km drive from Cochin to Bangalore has been one which I have been musing on for ages and contemplating rather seriously ever since I got my bike in September'10. Having tested out my endurance in progressively longer stretches of ride I had put myself through a regimen of physical fitness to enable me to ride out such a long distance without any physical debilities.

Thus it was that on the morning of 10th February 2011, I started on my drive to Bangalore. After a night of fitful sleep hampered by extreme excitement for the drive I woke up at 3 to find a home in darkness. The power was out, and so was the inverter battery so the morning ablutions and the last minute finishing touches to the packing was done by torch light. After a quick run to the temple to pray for my safety during this drive I finally got ready to leave by 0415.

Saddle bags tied, boots and jacket worn, gloves on, engine idling for a couple of minutes, my drive to Bangalore started at precisely 0430. The odometer reading was at 5735 kms. I had filled the tank to the full two days ago so I was confident of a few hundreds of kilometers without a need for refueling.

The morning drive had been sheer pleasure. Steadily increasing my speed from 45 kmph to around 65 kmph as I left Cochin City boundaries.The good roads and sparse traffic at such an early hour enabled a very pleasant drive. Ripping past usually clogged junctions I soon passed Mannuthy on to the Trichur - Palghat stretch. Advices received from frequent travelers of this road indicated that this would be the worst stretch of the road on the way to Bangalore. However I found it a breeze to drive through and even the Kuthiran pass was crossed quite comfortably swerving past trucks moving at snail pace to cross the pass. Offering a coin to the Sastha temple at Kuthiran, the deity who watches over the travelers of this treacherous mountain pass. By this time dawn was breaking and I took my first halt in more than an hour to take two poor shots of the dawn sky. At the 2 hour mark I had reached Vadakkencherry.

A friend of mine had suggested Vadakkencherry Aaryas and Avinashi Aaryas as ideal halts for breakfast and lunch. Since the Aaryas at Vadakkencherry was not open at 0630 I continued on looking out for some decent eatery. As the dawn broke up into a bright morning I spotted a hotel near Kanjikode with a magnificent view of the sundrenched hills nearby. After a leisurely breakfast and a refueling I set out for the next stop.

Crossing the Walayar Check Post and the final bridge on to Tamil Nadu I was as ever surprised at the shocking change of ecology from Kerala to Tamil Nadu. The dry lands had begun. Driving a bit more cautiously through roads being repaired and widened I finally took the left turning at Ettimada towards the Amrita College of Engineering. A nephew of mine is studying there and I had planned to meet him up at his college. Anyway I am driving down this road. What is a half an hour of deviation to spend time with family?

Literally a prison for its inmates, the Amrita College has multiple gates with sentries and a railway level cross as a secondary barrier. The inmate was standing near the innermost gate of the college and perhaps due to an inter collegiate fest, "Anokhi" being conducted there was able to come to a distance of 20 feet from the gates. While watching out for any wardens or sharp shooters looking to shoot down any inmate trying to escape, I talked to my nephew and was soon on my way. The time was now 0830 and within a short time I reached the L&T Highway bypassing Coimbatore. Accustomed to the dense traffic of Kerala's highways the near empty highways of Tamil Nadu were a welcome change for me. However the joy of driving down this level, straight and near perfect stretch of road was marred very soon on the approached to the town of Avinashi where due to ongoing road widening process a very long stretch of the road was under construction. Traffic was thicker here due to the inter city traffic of buses heading to and from Coimbatore, the short haul trucks working on the road project as also the long distance trucks. Weaving my way in and out slowly for some time I passed Avinashi. Though the eye was on the lookout for the Aaryaas restaurant mentioned earlier, nothing of note was seen.The grueling traffic hampered by road works continued for a few more kilometers out of Erode when suddenly the 4 lane highway started. Now this was a heavenly stretch of road, with proper medians, regular truck lay byes and even neat bus stops! Never having driven through such an excellent stretch of road before I revved my Hunk to a speed of 80 kmph. Hardly any jerks on such an amazingly well laid out tarmac saw me maintaining the speed comfortably. Nearing Tirupur I finally saw the roadside Aaryaas and after a refreshment and toilet break continued my drive.

The long stretches of nearly empty roads are always conducive to pragmatic and philosophical thoughts. When one is driving on one's own such a long drive is one of total solitude. While several people have questioned me on the boredom of riding alone, I have never felt loneliness in solitude. The only fear was that of any accident or mechanical faults which could leave me stranded in want of help, but that is risk I had decided to take, placing faith on God to keep me safe.

The excellent roads, steady speed, sparse traffic, everything kept the ride eventless, however the steadily increasing soreness of one's posterior was starting to make itself felt. With a calculated progress of 50 kms in an hour, I had planned on short water breaks every hour and a longer break every two hour when I would give a status update to my parents. A delicious black coffee at a hut like roadside tea shop sustained me at around 1030 when I passed by Erode. From the plains as I neared Salem the terrain became more and more barren and the rocky hills scattered on the approaches of the Salem gave some interesting scenery.

Driving down the NH47's last few kilometers I entered Salem city at around noon looking for a place for lunch. The sun was excruciatingly hot and the shade of the hotel provided a welcome respite. A light lunch was chased down by two deliciously cool Maaza - mango drink and about a quarter of an hour of rest. Having learned from the manager of restaurant that the way to Bangalore was along the same road as I came from I soon set out for the NH7 stretch of the drive at 1230. The road was again of stellar quality and the placid ride continued with the warm food and cool drinks within giving a steady defense against the sleepiness of driving through such traffic free roads. If the Coimbatore - Salem stretch had been defined by the 50km spaced towns like Avinashi and Erode the 200 km odd road to Bangalore from Salem was defined by 50 km spaced destinations like Dharmapuri, Krishnagiri and Hosur. The drive past the barren rocky landscapes was interesting but the pain in the joints were becoming more and more pronounced now. The 5 Star chocolates which I had stocked up earlier served me well at some of the water breaks. Having read some books about how veteran soldiers are distinguished from novice soldiers based on the contents of their pockets, veterans would have pocket full of chocolates, the novices would have pockets full of bullets, and also having learned about the energy concentration in chocolates which are particularly vital in cold terrains, I had stocked up the chocolates to serve nourishment purposes in case I am in stretches of road with no eateries around.

Nearing Krishnagiri and entering the Golden Quadrilateral road from Chennai to Bangalore I watched with dismay as my fuel tank started edging near empty. The steady speed of 80 kmph which I had maintained from Avinashi onwards had apparently not been quite good for my fuel economy. Realizing it would be absolutely stupid to enter Bangalore City with fuel tank nearing reserves, I decided to tank up at Hosur. By now the legs and buttocks were positively screaming in agony and I spent nearly 10 minutes sitting at the fuel station to rest up my muscles. Leaving Hosur at 1530 I finally neared the outskirts of Bangalore at around 4 PM.

I was quite looking forward to the Elevated Highway going into Bangalore as the sheer prospect of avoiding the extremely crowded Hosur Road was quite welcome. The 15 rupees suer fee is a small price to pay to avoid what used to be an hour of traffic blocks to reach the Silk Board Junction. I did however miss the Silk Board Junction from where I hoped to enter the Outer Ring Road and instead found myself at Madiwala. A quick direction enquiry found me driving down the Sarjapur Road which was familiar to me from my days in Bangalore two years ago. The two years had however changed much of the roadscape but somehow through a sense of the roads which survived for the intervening years I managed to get to Outer Ring Road at Sarjapur Junction. A very literal sense of accomplishment had come over me as I drove past the Salarpuria Softzone and other IT buildings near Bellandur, the sites where I started my professional career. Though reminiscing about those days would bring me trouble from the heavy traffic it was with great joy that I took the U Turn from Marathahalli and drove up Varthur Road to go near my friend's office at Whitefield. At 1630 I reached my friend's office at Whitefield, tired, exhausted, joints all sore, and my face and exposed fingers caked with a blacking residue of the 560 kms of the road I drove through.

The final drive to my friend's house via a myriad of incomprehensible short cuts was naturally excruciating for me, but the prospect of next day's Aero India and the three bottles of Kingfisher Strong Beer I drank up at night gave a pleasant close to a day which was started with much anticipation and saw the anticipation bearing fruition completely.

Travel to Guruvayur

2010-10-28T14:19:00.002+05:30

Legend has it that once upon a time, in an age when Berlin Wall still stood as the visualization of Iron Curtain and Manmohan Singh’s economic plans still a distant glint in his eye, I had been thin. Yes inconceivable though it is to any contemporary peers, there was a time when I was slim, hyper active and extremely reticent to eat food. Photographic evidence provides ample verification for these legends. However even more astonishing than my anorexia is the way by which it was cured and I embarked on the lifestyle that made me the 6’1.5” 115 kg behemoth of today. My mother often used to narrate the story of how when I was around 4 years old during a massive tantrum spell, I refused to eat anything for a long time and consequently was getting progressively weakened. In a spate of grief she implored upon Guruvayurappan to take care of me and if he did, henceforth every year one Thulabharam would be done in my name at Guruvayur temple. Apparently minutes after this prayer I got up from the bed and asked for food. The rest, as the moniker goes, is history, I assume it has been overall a profitable arrangement for Guruvayurappan, the embodiment of Lord Krishna, the wiliest of the many Avatars of Lord Vishnu as my weight started increasing steadily from then on and without a single year’s lapse every year I had been going to Guruvayur to do the Thulabharam offering, an offering in which a person’s weight in some commodity is given as offering to the Lord, be it paddy, bananas, coconut, jiggery or as in the case of some uber rich, gold. The sense of weightlessness as one is being weighed in a colossal set of scales is indeed an awesome one.

Thus it was that on Octiber 24^th I set out from my home to pray at Guruvayur. I left at around 1030 meaning to stop at St. Albert’s College in Kochi where I hoped to finish with my IGNOU Certificate verification. The sparse Sunday traffic ensured that I had a hassle free drive to St. Alberts through Vyttila-Kadavanthra-Kathrikadavu and the new Pullepady Bridge. Unfortunately at IGNOU office the circular informed me the IGNOU office was closed for the day due to election duty for the officers. I confirmed with the Study Center Director who was just leaving that certificate verification could be conducted in the coming Sunday too.

I had planned on at least an hour being needed to be spent at Alberts after which I would drive on to Trichur to my aunt’s house at Ayyanthol. However with time barely 11.15 I decided to push on anyway. Under the hot and sunny weather the drive was really pleasant and I really pushed the speed on the Kochi-Angamaly highway. Though I touched 90-93 kmph I did not dare push higher in this road with heavy traffic, lots of curves and intersections. At noon I had driven through Angamaly when the fancy caught hold me of visiting the Dhabas at Pongam. Between Angamaly and Koratty there are a couple of roadside Dhabas that are a regular haunt for long distance truckers hence a guaranteed spot to get good food at all times. During my college years at FISAT, late night escapades to these Dhabas had sustained us on many hungry nights, especially during exam seasons. The memory of the sweet lassis enjoyed from these Dhabas made me take a prompt detour at Pongam onto the bylane servicing these Dhabas. The Raju Dhaba was open and they still had lassis. Though I did inconvenience the manager by making him give me change for 500 rupees for two lassis worth 30 rupees, the lassis definitely proved to be an lifesaver. Bolstered I left for the road again. The stretch of road from Pongam until beyond Chalakudi has some of the worst stretches of roads in this area and the traffic was complicated at Koratty where some church festival was happening. Police and student volunteers from some college were effectively managing the traffic and hence the drive was not hindered.

The drive to Trichur henceforth was unremarkable over reasonably good roads and mild traffic. Reaching the aunt’s house at 12.30 I had a sumptuous lunch and rested a while before freshening up for the drive to Guruvayur. I had learnt that the temple opens up at 4.30 in the evening so I decided to arrive there at 3.30 itself making allowance for the ubiquitous crowd that would be thronging such an important pilgrimage place. Though Guruvayur is only 25 kms from Trichur, this was a drive I would be making while wearing Mundu (White dhoti) with no protective garments like jackets, gloves or shoes.. hence greater preparation was taken before getting started, especially with arranging the Mundu properly as I had no intention of making my genitalia or my underwear an object for public enjoyment. There is nothing more helpless than driving on a busy road and a gust of wind blowing your Mundu off.

The drive from Ayyanthol to Guruvayur through the Kunnamkulam road was as ever heavy in traffic with the over speeding private buses a definite hazard to the travelers. Since the previous time I drove through this road was under heavy rain, this time I could better appreciate the scenic beauty around. After Kechery the road passed through the very same massive fields that captivated me on the drive to Nilambur. At Choondal I turned left for the road to Guruvayur for a calm and pleasant drive. Traffic was much lighter and the shady trees provided a welcome respite from the burning sun.

As I crossed the railway level cross at Guruvayur and passed the Manjulaal to get the first sight of the Eastern Nada (Gateway) of Guruvayur temple, a strange excitement had caught me. At a sedate pace I looked out for the first priority – a parking space. Instructions from a friendly traffic policeman enabled me to find a good parking spot at the Devaswom rest house very near the temple. Hoisting my bag with the helmet attached to it I enquired about the time at which temple opens for Darshan. Temple normally opens at 4.30 PM or at 3.30 PM if there is Siveli. The time was then 3.15 and I decided to stand in the queue anyway. There was a substantial crowd in the queue and I figured even if temple opens only at 4.30 the queue would only get progressively bigger. Having deposited the slippers and bag for safe custody I joined up the queue.

Normally I am a person who hates crowds and detests long queues. However of late I have been able to maintain equanimity when faced with such unwelcome instances. I suppose it must be a result of my mnemonics and dabbling with Mandukya. After all why get bothered with something one cannot change, just weather it.

A few minutes after I stood in the queue and started playing some mnemonic games the sound of Chenda aroused me from my reverie. This was accompanied by apparent movement of the queue. As I looked on, I heard the start of Siveli Melam. The temple had opened up. As the queue slowly snaked inside the temple I got progressively more enthralled as the Melam started picking up its pace. Praying heartily at the first sight of Lord Guruvayurappan from the doorway I was even more pleasantly surprised to see that the Melam was led by Peruvanam Kuttan Marar, the acclaimed Chenda maestrp currently ruling the various Poorams and Utsavams of Kerala. The Melam and Siveli with three elephants ensured that it was one of the most enjoyable queues I had ever stood in. Uplifted by these joyous accompaniments, I prayed to Lord Guruvayurappan and came out of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Now the next item in the agenda, ie Thulabharam which I learned would start only at 5. The time was now just 4.15 so away I went to enjoy the Melam. Keeping pace with the Siveli circling the temple corridor I did not even notice the time flying until I noticed that a queue had formed at Thulabharam counter. Now standing for Thulabharam I continued to enjoy the Melam and to my ever increasing joy the Nadapparakalaasham, a musical form played in front of the Lord at the conclusion of Panchari Melam started just as I was able to enter inside the counter. I was sitting on the massive scales getting myself weighed for Thulabharam when in a very prescient manner the Nadapparakalaasham concluded in style. It was indeed an enchanting moment, the weightlessness and the magnificence of a concluding Melam. Indeed I prayed quite heartily to the Lord for giving me such a cherished Prasadam. Though previous visits had oft left me quite hating the temple and its ubiquitous crowds, this time I truly enjoyed my pilgrimage here.

Calm and serene after the praying I collected my stuff and soon was on my way back to Trichur. Though I reached my aunt’s home at 6 PM itself, I decided to wait until 8 to return to Kochi as I hoped to avoid the maddening evening traffic in the highway.

However this precaution was found to be naught when I was caught in a humongous traffic pile up near Ollur on Trichur High Road due to some Church festival. It seems every Tom, Dick and Harry and his umpteenth relative had decided to show off that day in their shining or not – so – shining cars and as a result the entire road was jam packed. My two wheeler could somehow weave its way through but even then progress was impeded by several youth showing off in their racing bikes, their blings causing a visibility hazard and their pig headedness generally causing more traffic trouble. I was really angry when I saw an autorickshaw with a medical emergency case aboard that was struck up in this snarl. The injured person inside was being supported by some drips indicating the severity of the case. Their predicament really made me hate the crass idiots who were causing such traffic blocks. Every side road leading off this main roads were jam packed, either with cars held there, or cars parked irresponsibly by jackasses. Somehow I made my way through and reached the NH47. By this time however my anti glare glasses which I bought for the princely sum of Rs. 250/- had outlived its usefulness by getting thoroughly fogged due to perspiration. I conceded defeat and henceforth rode it out without any eye protection. This proved troublesome along certain stretches of the Highway when the moderate to heavy truck traffic raised a lot of dust. However a medium speed and extra awareness enabled me to survive it. I had known that the traffic would be quite heavy in the NH at night and hence wanted to experience it as part of my long term road seasoning process. Glad to say this ride was fruitful too.

As I passed Chalakudy I began to look out for the Dhaba I mentioned earlier to have my dinner. The joint which was nearly deserted with unkept waiters in the afternoon was quite active and more presentable waiters at night. Some truckers were also sitting on the Charpoys and some bikers were also having their food. My recently started experimentation with vegetarianism caused me to forgo the juicy chicken pakodas that seemed to the fare of the evening and I settled for Roti and Chana Paneer. The food was simply sumptuous and accompanied by a cool spicy Lassi it was an excellent meal. Burping my satisfaction I left the Dhaba at 0945. The roads from thereon are of very good quality and that combined with the nearly empty traffic enabled me to maintain a brisk pace for the final ride to Kochi. The bright moon painted a beautiful landscape all around and thus I reached home without any event at around 1030pm. Total 12 hours from home and it was a very pleasant drive with a very spiritually satisfying pilgrimage. A total of 223kms had been driven.

Ride to Nilambur - Day Two

2010-10-23T14:21:00.000+05:30

If the first day of my touring was marked by continuous rains, the second day proved to be the very opposite. Even during the early morning ride to Nilambur, the mist was being burned up fast by the swift rays of sun.

The 29 kilometer drive to Nilambur was started at around 0645, with my cousin bro as the pillion rider. The early morning coolness ensured that he would not be obliging me with the customary singing that I force out of any pillion rider riding for some distance with me. I am sure that he had to preserve his vocals for a better audience. Remnants of those swirling mists which fascinated me yesterday were lingering on as we drove through Manjeri Town, which was waking up to a new day. The road was as ever in excellent condition however the instructions from the aunt kept me from going full throttle through the nearly deserted roads.

Gentle banking, lush fields and glimpses of distant mountains, their peaks hidden by mist, all these idyllic settings defined the drive to Nilambur. With my cousin bro obliging me by taking pics of the drive from pillion, we drove on through Edevanna, Mampad and Vadapuram. While passing through these towns one was extremely careful. Early morning and sleepy autorickshaw drivers is a very dangerous combinations. These self proclaimed kings of urban roads are driven by people who are trained to never even hear about words like "indicator", "signal", "careful driving" etc. Leaving the towns I could relax better.

The most memorable part of this drive had been the long bridge across Chaliyar River at Edavanna which one passed by on the route to Nilambur. Seeing that road which led to Areacode, I had decided that one day I shall ride along that road. High above the swift flowing Chaliyar Rievr that was a really captivating bridge.

The thickening woods along the sides of the road indicated to me that Nilambur is finally nearing. Passing the Conolly's Plot we entered Nilambur proper and at the suggestion of my cousin bro I drove up a steep inclined country road to reach Nilambur Kovilakam. I had dreamt for ages, driving down this road, through this archway and to the front of the Vettakorumakan Temple.

The magnificently glowing visage of the temple Gopuram under the blazing morning sun rays marked fruition of a long awaited dream. Since I was unfortunately under limitations of a Pettapela (prohibition from entering temple due to a birth in the family), I stood outside clicking away in my camera as my cousin bro went inside to pray. The huge guy wearing jeans, boots and carrying a large camera must have elicited curiosity of the locals some of whom asked me which newspaper I was from and whether some shooting was going to be there.

Having had the key of the bike anointed inside the shrine through my cousin, we drove the few yards to the banks of Chaliyar River. There is a height of several meters from the banks to the rapidly swirling waters of Chaliyar which is usually reached through several flights of worn out steps and trekking across the massive boulders of the riverside. I did not go down to the river, just to a few landings down where there was an excellent vantage point. The view of Bakamala, has always been of a remarkable nature. Legends and stories heard from childhood speak about the Bakasura of Mahabharata, who was killed by Bhima and was lying down in death in the form of those mountains. Indeed the profile of the distant Nilgiris mountains resembled a fearsome face lying in repose.

After a light breakfast and collecting "Appam" (sweet temple offering) at a relative's house we set on the return journey back to Manjeri. A small stop at a large clearing by the side of the road outside Nilambur gave me opportunity for a few more clicks. By this time the sun had risen up and the day had turned quite sunny and I was itching to get back on the road.

The thickening traffic ensured that the ride would be far from monotonous and with my cousin bro distracted over his MP3 player, I enjoyed the roads a bit more by touching near 60's speed in some of the more freer roads.

Having arrived back at Manjeri, I decided not to linger on. A more heavier breakfast followed and I made my leave from Manjeri. After the low visibility driving of the past day, the ride in such sunny conditions permitted me to more thoroughly enjoy the surroundings. Though I occasionally prodded the adrenaline glands by letting loose the throttle, it had been a more cautious day of riding. In good weather people generally drive more brashly and that is always to be feared.The ride through Malappuram and Kottakkal were unremarkable though the excellent quality roads enabled me to drive at a fast and steady speed with only slowing down occurring at Changuvetty Junction in Kottakkal, lest I miss the road to Valanchery.

Though I had told my aunt in Trichur that I would be stopping by her place on the return leg, while driving in the Kottakkal-Valanchery stretch I started musing about taking the NH17 back home by taking a deviation at Kuttipuram or Edappal. The road through Kunnamkulam and Trichur,I knew to be of excellent quality however the NH17 was an unknown quantity. However what fun is there to drive through totally familiar roads. Touring is after all exploring the unknown. Advised by some locals to turn to Ponnani only from Edappal, I decided to do some map consulting as soon as I reach Edappal. I had also been getting extremely thirsty by then.

While having a juice at Edappal, I checked the NH17 route to Kochi on my Eicher All India Road Map and to judge the road condition I also called up Thothi, a close family friend who used to travel to Irinjalakuda regularly. Bolstered by her information that the roads were of decent quality except for stretches near Paravur and Edapally, I decided to take the deviation.

The Edappal-Ponnani road started off narrow but of acceptable quality but progressively deteriorated as it neared Ponnani town. At one stretch it was literally mud biking as I found one pothole to be a good 30-50 cms deep as the wheels started sinking in. The 150cc engine held good and I drove out. Another scare was received as my front wheel drove over a large and sharp rock. For a moment I feared whether the tire would get punctured though thanks to God nothing happened. Turning left at Ponnani Junction I entered the National Highway 17, the Panvel-Edappaly highway connecting Kochi and Mumbai along the coast of Arabian Sea.

I was truly surprised when I started driving down this road. Though not as wide as the Trichur-Kochi stretch of NH47 or even the Trichur-Edappal road, NH17 was paved rather decently, though with the signs of no maintenance having been done for several years. Even more surprising was the sparse traffic despite the good roads. Starting off carefully at around 50 kmph, I gradually increased speed to a steady speed of 75-80 kmph. It was a pleasant drive, with the biggest worry that of falling asleep. This worry was not neglected and I forced myself to be more aware whenever the monotonous nature of the drive threatened my lucidity.

By now it was nearing 1 o'clock and I had been getting pretty hungry. While scanning the roadsides for a decent eatery, I spotted a KTDC board indicating "Beach - 1km". Stopping by the junction, I asked around about the beach and any hotel around. Though there were no hotels anywhere nearby, I took the side road towards the beach on a lark.

The Mannalamkunnu beach was completely deserted when I stopped my bike just within its gates. The white sandy beach was throwing off a blazing glare from the burning sun. The Tsunami prevention trees planted along the beach beckoned me with promise of a soothing shelter and there were some benches around which would have provided some minutes of welcome rest, however the deserted nature of the beach warned me not to linger for long. I watched a few fishermen at their trades, shot off a few clicks and it was back to the road.

By now I had been growing steadily hungrier though I was disappointed in my hope of finding some eatery at Chavakkad along the highway itself. As I neared Chettuva however I saw a highway restaurant where I decided to have my lunch. Though it looked too fancy for my taste it was better than to ride ahead getting more and more famished. The vegetarian meals was acceptable and the hotel had an excellent lime soda which I had two of. Dishing out around 75 bucks for the meal and two soda lime I embarked on my return leg of the journey.

From Chettuva onwards the road started getting progressively bad and nearing Kodungallur there were a few stretches of road where the road was absolutely bad and traffic snarls horrible. This stretch of my drive was marked my occasional stoppages to enquire about a Murukkan Kada. After a heavy lunch I occasionally indulge in some betel chewing however hopes towards this direction were foiled. Even the small villages have more North Indian Paan shops and no murukkan kada. Really sad state of affairs. When one is out of the state of course one has to go with what is the local variety, but here in Kerala itself why do we have to resort to Paan with its entire coterie of artificial accompaniments? As I neared Kodungallur the thickening traffic however made me forget about the Murukkaan.

The first cramp hit me as I just entered the Kodungallur town. Driving down the road circling Kodungallur Bhagavathi Temple, cramps in my right thigh threatened to disable me. Immediately slowing down, I started flexing my leg while ensuring that the driving was safe and looking for some sort of bakery where I could drink up some liquids. The day long drive in sunny climate seemed to have dehydrated me. Driving on a few kilometers outside of the town I finally spotted a bakery just in front of the Cheraman Perumal Mosque, one of the oldest mosques in India. The extremely cold milkshake followed by a full bottle of water nursed me back to freshness and the drive was on.

As warned by Thothi, the roads near Paravyur were horrible. Excruciating traffic snarls and severely cratered roads going on for kilometers threatened to dampen my entire enthusiasm for the drive. However I drove on. The next stumbling block was not too far away in the form of the Edapalli railway crossing, always under a traffic snarl. The sight of the elevated bridge span over the railway tracks standing as a mute testament to execrable apathy, incompetence and criminal negligence of our political masters brought a sadness as I crossed the level cross. Two wheelers like me could perhaps manage faster by weaving in and out, but what of those poor chaps in four and six wheelers who are stuck at waiting for hours at a level cross?

The rigors of crossing this level cross in a form of motocross madness with the other bikers through the bad roads and continuing bad roads near Cheranalloor finally added up to give me my second cramp of the day, this time to my left thigh. Thankfully I had some of the water remaining so I downed the bottle, rested and flexed my legs for a minute or so and finally drove on home. The junction at Edapalli and the remaining drive home through Vyttila and Petta had been like the countless rides back home after work, however the satisfaction of riding home after two days of long rides was something else entirely. Truth be said, even as I shed my swollen feet off the boots and rested my numb posterior and worn out legs on the sofa back home I was already thinking about my next long drive.

As a new rider and a fresh tourer, I feel this drive proved to be an initiation of sorts. I drove through inclement and good weather, plains and hills. It had been a long solitary drive that proved to myself that I had the wherewithal for this. This drive proved to me that fantasies could become real and they might just be as magical as fantasies. In the hope of being able to pen more journals of longer and more thrilling drives, I conclude this travelogue.

Ride to Nilambur - Day One

2010-10-18T15:57:00.000+05:30

"God's Own Wet Country."
That eponymized my drive as I set off from my home in Tripunithura at around 0515 on October 15th. The sweltering heat of the past few days was shattered by the massive thunder storm that started the past day evening. There was no hope of waiting for the rain to ease off, and showing even the slightest reluctance would cause this drive to be postponed. One never knows when such a golden opportunity would present itself. After all it had been my dream for years to drive to Nilambur, my maternal ancestral town.

The three day Pooja holidays starting with the Friday triggered the wanderlust in me as I slyly heard the Admin Manager talking to the MD. The plan which tentatively started taking shape on that Monday had resulted in a more or less sensible route plan by Thursday. It was really lucky that so many of my colleagues are from the Northern Districts of Kerala. Paying heed to the suggestions in safety as expounded in xkmph community, I had decided that for this drive, I would be using proper gloves. By Thursday evening, I had bought the inexpensive leather gloves, filled up the tank and had got more or less ready.

Any hope for an uneventful drive was thankfully disrupted by the rain. Even waking up at 4o'clock on 15th the sound of still raging rain brought a measure of trepidation along with the excitement. The trepidation proved itself to be merited as soon as I left Tripunithura as my years old jacket got soaked through the forceful rains. The cheap anti glare glasses I had worn along with the visor helped in the matters as the visibility dropped seriously. The Airport-Seaport Road from Tripunithura to Kalamasser via Kakkanad was a watery haze as I negotiated the steady traffic this early in the morning against the visibility issues. A steady 40kmph more or less made things easier. I did however worry about the other drivers in this route, who may have even less visibility and much less driving sense than me, going by their undimmed headlights burning their way into my retina.

The stretch of road via Kalamassery ITC to join the NH47 proved to be as despicable as ever. My curses at the PWD increased the already Himalayan tally as I strive hard to negotiate through the massive potholes trying to figure out where the road ended. Thankfully rains had eased a bit in its intensity by now. The drive onwards from Kalamassery Apollo Tyres had been plain vanilla, with me maintaining a steady 40-45 kmph while adjusting myself to the rains and early morning NH traffic. Passing Aluva however I felt myself envigored and acclimatized enough to give more tension to the throttle. Ride was steady, albeit monotonous, the stretch of road having been driven through by me many times. Additional care was taken around the danger stretches near Nedumbassery Airport, the sight of which in the early morning was as ever a feast for the eyes.

I slowed down as I neared Angamaly, the hometown of my "beloved" Alma mater looking for a coffee shop. However knowing the town as I did I felt there to be far greater possibility for a bar being open at this time, around 0615 rather than a coffee shop. There was not even one of those small tea shops that are the lifeblood for the ordinary traveler in Kerala. Thankfully the renovated Hotel Crystal Palace at the Karayamparambu Junction in the Angamaly-Chalakudi stretch had been open. The coffee though not stellar was the lifeblood I hoped it to be, warming my benumbed fingers and rejuvenating my innards.

The road from Angamaly to Trichur is a promising one. Stretches of insanely superb roads marred at times by bad roads where construction is going on. Within a year or so, this would be an awesome expressway. Even now it is proving to be excellent speed way for two wheelers if not quite so for the multiple wheelets as was the case for the massive line of trucks, buses and cars piled up in a kilometers long traffic block in this stretch of the road. Some lingering road sense must have enabled these drivers to follow the rare propriety of road sense by sticking to one long line in one lane without any of the lane jumping which makes traffic snarls execrable during more busier times. As a two wheeler, however that propriety is not applicable for me and I was able to weave my way past this massive traffic jam which was incidentally caused by a limber truck breaking down in the middle of the road. No doubt due to overload and poor condition of roads.

The shimmering orange of the rising sun to the East announced the formal start of another day. I have always enjoyed sunrise in the highways. What comparable way is there to really travel other than through biking. Unencumbered by the body of a car or the windows of a truck or bus, the massive vistas one can enjoy while driving a bike is one of the most sublime pleasures one can know. I dare any other medium of motorized travel whereby such a sight can be had by the traveler. Had it not been steadily raining, I would have humored my temptation to stop by the shoulder and take snaps of the skyline. It was so beautiful. Though the rain was still falling in my sector of the land, out East the clouds were clearing and the magnificent rising sun was inundating the land with rays casting the orange hue to clouds, a hue that was of incomparable magnificence.

Taking the High Road, I drove up to Trichur City and rounding the Swaraj Round I arrived at my aunt's house at Ayyanthol Chungam at 0730. The sight of me clad in black jacket, cargo pants, army boots, black helmet, glare proof glasses, black leather gloves and everything sopping wet must have been quite a sight for my aunt. Shedding the outer garments I had breakfast with my aunt and in all spent around 90 minutes there talking.

At 0845 I started off for the drive, with the next destination in my route being Kunnamkulam. Following the Ayyanthol road through the front of the Lulu International Convention Center I joined up the Kunnamkulam road that was becoming progressively heavier in traffic.The dryness of the past hour became a fleeting memory as the rain picked up in its intensity. The drive was however pleasurable.

It has always been my observation that driving in inclement weather is ultimately safer. In bad weather people become more careful than usual, driving more slower. In good weather the jackasses of the driving community let rip their throttles without caring for other people's safety. However even this weather was not proving to be a slowing factor for the speeding private buses plying this route.

A few kilometers from Kunnamkulam at Kechery I spotted a board indicating a shortcut to Perumpilavu, the next town after Kunnamkulam. My deviation through this track proved to be a wise choice as the roads were of decent quality, albeit narrow and traffic light. The intensified rain had really beautified the lush green surroundings and it was with great regret that I refrained from stopping by that road going through a vast farmland area, Rain truly is a lustrous jewel upon the land, bedecking the vegetation with its sparkling drops and washing away the soot and dirt of a parched earth. Despite being drenched to the bone, I had never appreciated rains more.

The Kechery - Pannithadam - Perumpilavu road joined up the highway and onwards was a road of exceptional quality where I truly felt confident to let rip my throttle. Stopping for coffee at Edappal I drove onwards to Kuttippuram and Valanchery. The roads were simply magnificent, however the heavy rains forced one to maintain a sober speed of around 50-60 kmph. A Tempo Traveller coming from the opposite direction obliged me in this stretch by anointing me with a wave of water as a sheet of water engulfed me from head to toe. I really thanked God that I had been driving with visors down, else that would have been a sure shot recipe for accident. A few stretches of bad roads and road under construction marred this travel near Kuttippuram however the overflowing waters of the Bharatapuzha proved to be a treat for the eyes sufficient enough to help one tide things over. Another coffee break at Valanchery and I was on my next stage. The Valancheri-Puthanathani-Kottakkal roads were of sufficiently decent quality and reasonable speed could be maintained. From the Changuvetti Junction at Kottakkal I entered the road to Malappuram.

Another coffee break at Malapuram (the continuous drive through rain and the reasonable fast speed maintained was causing one to be quite cold) and I ascertained the directions to Manjeri and my uncle's house there. A few kilometers short of Manjeri I took deviation at Vayapparapadi Junction to arrive at my uncle's house at 1130. As at Trichur, my drenched visage proved to be quite a spectacle albeit to a larger crowd this time. Two aunts, one matriarch, two of my cousins and three little kids were open mouthed at the "Space Man" like vision of mine.

The rest of the day was spent more or less lazing around with my cousin brother suggesting that we drive to Malappuram town in the evening for some sight seeing, This cousin who had been involved in a nasty accident an year back still had some trauma issues with regards to traveling in bikes so I had express orders not to drive fast while the "delicate cargo" was behind me. Naturally I obliged. There is no fun to be had by distressing the pillion rider.

A few distance before Malappuram town we took the road to Kottapuram, a hill top recreational area which boasted some adequate scenery. The steep uphill drive to the top of the hill was fun and some time was spent there clicking away on my Nikon L110.

Though moderately pleasant there was nothing captivating enough to spend too much time here. The assemblage consisted mostly of families or elder people so there was no more scope to stay there. At my cousin's suggestions we drove onwards, this time to Malappuram town. Passing through a road to the left of the Civil Station road we found ourselves in a very steep incline. purely by second gear and rear foot break I drove down the road and my quintessential quirkiness prompted me to retrace the road. Paying no heed to my baffled cousin brother, I drove up the nearly 50 degree incline at progressively second and first gears and then came back down yet again. Though the cousin condescendingly prompted me to repeat the performance, for all my craziness, I am not a Naranathu Bhrandan. I am no copy cat, I follow my own whims.

Random meanderings through these roads finally brought us to a suspension bridge serving as a walkway between the two banks of the Chaliyar River. Sections of this bridge had its handrails crumbling away and with trepidations I walked across the bridge at the behest of my cousin bro. The view was pretty good and having walked across and backwards we set off onwards. By this time it had been getting steadily darker and we returned to my uncle's home.

October 15th was the day of the release of the movie "Anwar" a Prithviraj starrer, which I later heard is a copy cat remake of the movie "Traitor" starring Don Cheadle.Suggestion that we watch the late night "Second Show" was accepted by me and after dinner we set off towards the theater. Going by the easy going confidence wielded by my cousin, I felt that he must have made some arrangements to get tickets for a first day show itself. He even seemed reticent at making a prior reservation, apparently so confident was he that he entrusted a friend of his to stand in the queue and buy the tickets. As any experienced movie goer knows, you never get lackadaisical when going to watch a movie in first day itself. Standing in queue a good three hours beforehand is the normal thing to do if not buying tickets in the "black". Naturally the plan fizzled. Since we were anyway out for a movie and to avoid the shame of returning early we went to watch another movie, "Elsamma Enna Aankutty" which was an average entertainer, good for viewing one time.

As we left the theater at midnight the surroundings had turned truly magical. After a day of rains the whole area was surrounded in mist. Driving through those swirling clouds of fog was truly an out of the world experience.

A total of 222 kms was driven on this first day of my longest ever solo ride. With satisfaction of a lifelong dream being fulfilled I went to sleep planning for the next day when the dream would attain fruition as I pray at Nilambur.

Palliatives to an incurable ailment

2010-10-03T15:06:00.001+05:30

For many years I had been severely stricken with that most incurable of ailments - Wanderlust. However not having a suitable vehicle as palliative, I suffered in silence while voraciously reading with unmitigated jealousy the accounts of friends and acquaintances riding around.

As a preteen kid in New Delhi, the symptoms of my wanderlust were already very much in evidence as I used to roam the lanes of our residential colony in my BSA Wild Cat.

The wanderlust then raised its head during my years in Cochin as the Hercules Top Gear roamed the cities of the city. The sore thigh and the benumbed members failed to erase my passion for riding long distances customarily traveled in bus and rarely on cycles.

The dark ages of my wanderlust began with the start of college. Stuck with a Honda Activa and severe restrictions on traveling the dark ages were replete with hours whiled away in agony on hearing the travel accounts from hostel mates.

All this changed a month back when an Ivory Gray Hero Honda Hunk became my steed. Though not the Royal Enfield of my perpetual dreams, this was however a worthy cure for my long suppressed wanderlust.

The bike which I took delivery on 1 September, 2010 has undergone its first service of 750 km in its third week and now has clocked 1300 kms. I think I have gone rather conservative on the rides for the first month and hope to improve my miles in the coming months.

The first ride I took in my bike was a short ride to Cherai , a beautiful beach north of Kochi. Always a safe rider, I felt it stupid to go any long distance without pacing myself and my bike through shorter rides. At a distance of around 35 kilometers from Kochi City, Cherai is a picturesque beach with adequate pleasure for the eyes. The ride up was via the Gosree Bridge, connecting the various small isles dotting the Kochi harbor and the main bus route to Cherai. However one gets too bored by remaining stationary when the wanderlust has charged up one's veins. So I drove southwards along the Beach Road, a less traveled but exceptionally beautiful road with white sandy beaches on one side and vast lagoons on the other side. The beaches along this narrow road are much less crowded and more soothing for an introvert. Armed with a Nikon L110 camera, another palliative for a person with a developing passion in photography, I wanted to take some shots of the bike close to the beach.

The mangroves planted to check monsoon erosion was the route I took, driving my bike in first gear through loose unpacked sand, taking care to control the rpm so that the wheels do not sink in to the sand. I was on a half crouched posture as I did not dare put my weight on to the tyres. However the photos that ensued have been worth it.

After a few more photo locations I drove down to the Vypeen Jhankar Ferry where I was fortunate enough to be the last one aboard the over crowded ferry. Despite being unable to get down from the bike, the setting sun and the beautiful city lights of Cochin City provided me opportunity for some juicy snaps. The return ride back home through Mattancherri and Wellington Island was pure vanilla and unremarkable.

In this first ride, I clocked 76 kms.

The second ride was to Trichur, a city 80 kms north of Kochi. Driving down the excellent stretch of NH47, i felt content to maintain an average speed of 65kmph. Though I did humor my adrenaline surges by taking the bike to 85 kmph, I did not want to push harder since not even the first service had been done and besides, to enjoy a long ride, it should be done with a moderate speed. After all what is the pleasure of travel if one does not have the time to appreciate the land?

80kms up and 80 kms down saw me clock around 170 odd kilometers in two days.

Having got the bike in superb condition after the first service I had been itching to do another long ride when the opportunity presented to myself in the form of a ride to Sholayar.

Unlike other rides which I undertook alone, this time I had my father along as the pillion rider. A daredevil in his youth, he wanted to ride through the high ranges he had flown over during his youth as a pilot in Agricultural Ministry. Driving once again through the excellent NH47 till Chalakudy, we took the deviation to Athirapalli. The roads were simply magnificent, the gentle bankings and beautiful scenery made the drive a supremely pleasurable affair. However the excellent roads gave way to the potholed ghat roads once we entered the Athirapalli - Vazhachal stretch. After the mandatory checking at the Forest Check post at Vazhachal, we were off again. Though the gas filled rear shock absorbers of the Hero Honda Hunk had proved itself adequate for my 115kg frame, it was not enough to dampen the shocks for the old bones of my father. Each jerk on the potholed roads elicited grunts of discomfort from the pater.

The 1000th kilometer of my bike was reached at the precise spot where we can go near the Peringalkuthu reservoir. The odometric miracle was simply margelous in my opinion. However the ride onwards was stopped at the Sholayar penstocks as my father finally expressed his inability to go further. The crazy readings of my fuel gauge, which showed half tank now, near empty afterwards, again half tank later on also sowed seeds of doubt in my mind about continuing onwards for the 50 further kilometers to Valpara.

Instead of retracing the Chalakudy route, we took the deviation from Silver Storm water theme park and went through the Plantation Corporation of Kerala Estate which proved to be almost 12 kms shorter albeit in execrable conditions. After short coffee break at Mookkannor, the location of my alma mater, we duly returned home at Kochi. A drive which started at 0830 terminated at 1730, covering a distance of 217 kms, 114 up and 103 down.

Hopefully my next drives would be even longer in distance and thrilling in locations.

Operation Lanka Dahan

2010-08-10T20:37:00.003+05:30

The aircraft had been flying low and with all navigation lights turned off for quite some time now. The mission is of a priority nature, and they were essentially flying on a suicide mission. All earlier reconnaissance flights to Lanka had been shot down by the LANKA LAXMI Comprehensive Defense Network which protected Lanka, an intricate network of air defense radars, and Surface to Air Missiles which was supported by dedicated squadrons of Air Superiority fighters of Lanka Air Force.

However the GH44 was flying very low, wave skiing barely 100 meters above sea level, hopefully below the radar coverage of the powerful air defense radars in Lanka. The specially coated blades of the quad tilt rotor aircraft are directionally deceptive acoustically, however ultimately the GH44 and its team of elite commandos would have to depend on sheer pluck and guts.

The Kishkinta Air Force GH44 is a integral asset of the MARUT Force, the elite of elite commando units, commanded by Major Bajrang Bali. The full force of 32 combat tested commandos are deploying for this special reconnaissance mission. Their mission : to find Lady Sita, the wife of Prince Ram who was kidnapped by Generalissimo Ravan, the dictator ruling Lanka. Sugreev, the King of Kishkinta had promised to assist Prince Ram in finding his captured wife and it was to this end that MARUT force is deployed.

"Captain, we are getting some radar returns from 180, it seems there is a creeping wave radar trying to track us and engage us," the electronic warfare officer informed the pilot commanding the GH44.

"Okay, hold on tight, gentlemen, we may have some rocky ride ahead," the Captain said as the weapon systems that were on standby were powered on to full active.

"Vampires inbound, multiple vampires inbound from 180, seems like a stealth launcher."

"Launch counter measures."

Though not as agile as a fighter the GH44 did have some tricks up its sleeve and volumes of chaff and flare were expended to distract the missiles. The tilt rotor engines were also used with full effect to deny a doppler target to the tracking radar, as the aircraft jinked and swerved to avoid the missiles flying towards them. While the captain and copilot were busy evading the missiles in the aft section the MARUT force were strapped in tight fighting the nausea induced by the wild maneuvers. The electronic warfare officer is meanwhile trying to locate the source of the missiles. It was vital that it be destroyed before it did further harm to the plane or warned Lanka about its intrusion.

"Captain, I have the target. Seems like a Surasa class frigate, jamming its communications and radars. Bearing 183, range 400 meters, we must engage before we reach in range of its CIWS guns." The high powered jammer in this specialized aircraft was matching the frequency hopping abilities of the tracking radar as well as jamming the known communication frequencies with noise. Now with a clear target information a single HARM, Anti Radiation Missile was launched. The close range and low altitude of the GH44 meant that the HARM struck fast before counter measures or evasion could be attempted. Hit amidships , the Surasa class frigate sunk with all hands.

"Phew, that was close. Okay guys, let us pray and hope that this was unnoticed by Lankans. I just hope our hacker boys have done their job well," the Captain said. The highly secretive cyber warfare team of MARUT Force had been working for days to find a way to spoof the highly secure LANKA LAXMI defense network. The intricate defense network had been known to operate off encrypted burst satellite communications and it had taken some extreme luck and some exquisite coding to break through its security levels. Now the GH44 had been assigned a bogus IFF number that would show as friendly to the LANKA LAXMI.

As it neared the coast, the GH44 climbed up to altitude and powered on its IFF signals.

"HNMN142, this LNLX Control. State the mission code, Over" the radio soon squawked to life.

Feinting a bored voice, the co-pilot spoke, "LNLX Control, this is HNMN142. We are returning from routine patrol in Sector NNW27, now RTB Lanka AFB. Request clearance, Over".

With baited breath, the crew waited for the response. They hoped that the LANKA LAXMI server had the call sign and mission codes fed into it by the MARUT hackers.

"HNMN142, this is LNLX Control, you are cleared to enter Lanka Capital Zone. Safe flight."

The GH44 carried on its flight at higher altitude finally reaching 30,000 ft. The sprawling city of Lanka was spread below them, resplendent in wealth looted from several other nations, home to the armed force which had terrorized the world for such a long time. They are literally in the jaws of the lion.

At the jump master's command, the 32 commandos started lining up by the aft door which was now opened. Each jump was timed for special Drop Zones strategically located across the city. While most of the MARUT Force were spread out around the city, the team of 4 led by Maj. Bajrang Bali were being dropped directly on to the sprawling Palace Complex. Dropping stealthily using their tactical parachutes, they landed at the Ashokavana Park in the middle of the Palace Complex. The lush orchard was the ideal landing spot and is central enough for the team to spread out their search from. Intelligence sources also indicated that Ashokavana is a high security zone, guarded by an elite cadre of female commandos. All these indicators had caused Maj. Bajrang to guestimate this orchard as the most likely place where Lady Sita could be held.

Immediately after landing the black Nomex clad commandos hid themselves in thickets of trees that formed the orchard and stealthily started searching. Exquisitely trained in jungle warfare, the prospect of searching for a single person in a thickly wooded park in the middle of a high security palace, constantly under the glare of roving search lights and patrolling commandos reputed to be devilishly effective is daunting. However the team slowly spread out, timing their sprints between thickets to avoid the patrols and searchlights.

Stealth had always been the speciality of Maj. Bajrang Bali. The most highly decorated soldier in Kishkinta Army, he is also a close friend of King Sugreev and Prince Ram. For years languishing as a rank and file officer in Kishkinta Army his immense skills were rediscovered thanks to Prince Ram. While accompanying as Special Protective Officer to Sugreev and Ram, Bajrang Bali had proven his loyalty and abilities multiple times during Sugreev's years of exile from Kishkinta. Now Prince Ram had personally assigned him this mission, a mission Bajrang is determined to fulfill.

He had heard a lot about the piety of Lady Sita, an exemplary doyen of all qualities pure and good. He shuddered at the prospect of the torture and suffering that Lady Sita would have suffered at the hands of the bestial and cruel Generalissimo Ravan.

Moving through the thickets Maj. Bajrang came at the edges of a small clearing where his Night Vision/Thermal Goggles determined a concentration of heat signatures beneath a certain tree. Powering up the scope of his goggles, Maj. Bali observed the scene. A cohort of female commandos were standing guard next to a tree underneath which a divinely beautiful lady, clad in robes of white cotton was sitting. The demonic aura of the heavy guns brandished by the guard detail did not however the divinity obvious from the lady in white.

"Marut Lead to Marut Team. Positive contact with Lady Sita. Hold tight while I establish contact. Marut Team, prepare to give me cover," Maj. Bali said softly on his encrypted communications gear. Checking the perimeter, Maj. Bali was about to signal his team mates to move forward to support his recon, when suddenly he called them to stop. A large posse of commandos were coming from the Palace to the Ashokavana, apparently some big shot is coming. Maj. Bali observed as Generalissimo Ravan walked towards Sita and attempted to talk to her. The effort was obviously futile as Ravan soon stomped off towards the Palace in high dudgeon. Excellent.

After a while the commando force thinned around Lady Sita, when the guards went into their routine switching of detail. For the late night shift, the Ashokavana was closed off and only a guard detail of 3 female commandos were at station standing around Lady Sita who was now sitting at the root of the tree.

Corking the silencer on to the grooved barrel of his 9mm Revolver, Maj. Bali stealthily advanced towards Lady Sita. Since he did not know how Sita would react if these commandos were killed, Maj. Bali decided that they would instead be shot with tranquilizer bullets. Three faint pops from the silenced gun in the span of barely 4 seconds took care of the three commandos who fell unceremoniously to the ground. Lady Sita gave a small shriek before Bajrang Bali spoke to her, "Madam, please do not shout. I am an envoy from Prince Ram."

"What? Who are you? Why did you kill these women?" Lady Sita asked flustered at the sudden shock.

"Milady, I am Major Bajrang Bali, servant of Prince Ram of Ayodhya and King Sugreev of Kishkinta. I am here to rescue you. Also these women are not dead, they are merely unconscious."

"What? You are sent by Ram? How do I know you are not just another sneaky trick by Ravan?" Sita sneered at Bajrang.

"Well I thought it would come to this, so I have brought this proof of veracity," Bajrang said while producing a small package from a pouch in his rucksack.

Opening the small velvet bound package, Lady Sita saw the signet ring that Prince Ram gave as a verifiable sign of proof.

"Madam, me and my team were sent here to find you, we are also ready to take you back to Prince Ram, if you consent to come with us," Maj. Bajrang said.

"No, I will not escape so unceremoniously from here. I have seen the horrors and evils propagated by this evil person. He must be destroyed. Please do not take offense, but you must tell Ram that he himself should come and rescue me and avenge the insult meted out to me," Lady Sita said.

"Very well then, Madam. I shall take my leave then. Though I think it would be wise for me to let Ravan have a hint of the consequences of his evil actions." Then bowing before Lady Sita, Maj. Bajrang Bali walked up towards his team mates who had now come out.

"Okay guys, now we have maintained contact. Now let us finish the second part of our mission. I really feel like we should give Ravan a message too, what do you think?"

"Oh yes, Sir. Let us show what MARUT Force can do. The rest of the team has checked in, Sir. Their mission is also accomplished and they have met up with the GH44," the Sergeant of the team replied.

"Okay. Now, let us rock and roll."

Maj. Bali and his team slowly made their way towards the walls that enclosed Ashokavana Park. Scaling the walls using the pneumatically shot rappelling cables the commandos soon reached the top of the walls. It would be counter productive to let Ravan know that they had established contact with Lady Sita, so they had to conduct their distraction operations well away from the Ashokavana. Establishing contact with the GH44 that was by then landed at a football ground within the city, the Major signaled the MARUT Force to do the second phase of their job.

High tension power cables which fed electric power into the Palace were blown apart as demolition charged placed on them by the MARUT Force exploded. The sudden loss of power and loss of security was utilized by the team within the Palace to make their way towards the Administrative Area of the Palace. Maj. Bajrang Bali started engaging the Lankan security guards with his submachine gun and assault rifle as the remaining three commandos used the distraction to make their escape from the Palace. The sudden assault within the Palace compound and the loss of security brought the entire Palace to high alert. As teams of security guards reported being attacked and falling silent, Col. Akshay Kumar, son of Generalissimo Ravan and chief of Palace Security raced towards the attacker.

The exceptionally skilled Maj. Bajrang Bali however started taking out a heavy toll on the Palace Guard forces. Seemingly invincible, his torrent of bullets crushed the defending force like stalk by thresher. An expert in Close Quarter Combat, Maj. Bali had long switched to Lankan assault rifles scavenged from the dead security guards as he started mowing his way to the Administrative Area, where he knew Ravana would be staying.

Enraged at the destruction meted out to his elite soldiers by this intruder, Col. Akshay Kumar pounced upon Maj. Bajrang and disarmed him of his rifle. Gunless the two ace soldiers started hand to hand combat, however the prowess of Col. Kumar was found to be wanting as he met his death at the strong hands of Maj. Bali. The ferocity of Maj. Bali and the death of their senior officer caused the Palace Guards to panic.

Saddened and enraged at the news of the death of his son, Ravan sent forth his eldest son Brig. Gen. Indrajit to take care of the intruder. Brig. Gen. Indrajit, the Commander of Lanka Special Forces galvanized the Palace Guards into action from retreat and started advancing upon Maj. Bajrang Bali.

By this time Maj. Bajrang had gained an adequate picture of the defenses but now realized that if he continued his attacks in this manner, Ravan may escape from the Palace and his effort would be futile. Only chance to meet him would be to surrender now. Feinting an injury, Maj. Bajrang fell to the ground yelling in pain. When Indrajit and other Palace Guards came near Bajrang, he became seemingly unconscious.

Cuffed and chained, Bajrang Bali was brought before Generalissimo Ravan who was in a towering fury at the death of his son and extensive damage to his Palace.

Sensing that he is now in the presence of Ravan, Bajrang Bali acted gaining his senses.

"Who are you, soldier? Why the hell are you here," Ravan barked at the bound prisoner before him.

"I am Major Bajrang Bali, envoy from Prince Ram and King Sugreev. I am here to command you to return Lady Sita with full honor to Prince Ram and beg them for forgiveness, pending which you and your unholy nation would be destroyed and razed to ground."

"What temerity! Are you not aware of your position, you fool? It is you, who has to beg for my forgiveness. As for Ram, all I can say to his ultimatum is "MEH". Now bow and beg for forgiveness, you insolent cur. Though you killed my son, I recognize valor and skill where I see it. Bow before me and you shall get a swift death, worthy of a soldier. Else you shall be dishonored before you are killed. Bow now," Ravan roared.

"Hell shall freeze over, before I bow before you," Bajrang Bali replied.

"Oh , is it? Then I guess I shall make things pretty hot enough for you," Ravan said with a cold sneer.

At his orders Maj. Bajrang Bali had himself strapped with a vest of plastic explosives with a timed detonator, timed to explode in 5 minutes. But far from being scared, Bajrang Bali said, "You know, you are really going to regret doing this."

Saying this, he broke free the cuffs restraining him and ran out to the bay window near him.

Ravan looked in shock as the commando jumped out of the window from a height of 10 storeys. It was then that he heard the dull roar of the turboprop engines of the GH44 as it soared by the palace. The hackers of MARUT Force had really done their job and the LANKA LAXMI defense network was totally skewed and utilizing the confusion the GH44 now with the full MARUT Force sans Maj. Bajrang in it soared by the baywindow nearest the radio tag denoting Bajrang Bali. The slight chirp on his ear radio, had made Bajrang aware that the aircraft was nearby and it was at the signal from the pilot that he had made his jump.

Now caught and pulled aboard the aircraft by two of his fellow commandos, Bajrang Bali tore off the explosive vest.

"All set, guys?"
"Oh yes, waiting for your GO, Sir,"
"Excellent," Maj. Bajrang said while throwing out the explosive vest. As the countdown timer came to zero, the vest landed in the helicopter hangar of the Palace where about 5 helicopters were at standby. The fireball of their explosion was accompanied by a series of explosions that rent up the night sky of Lanka.

The MARUT Force had placed explosives at various strategic locations, like power transmission towers, fuel bunkers and had placed remotely fired RPG nests targeting various radar and communication buildings in and around Lanka. However the biggest conflagration came from the explosions targeting the LPG distribution pipeline of the city which after being hacked by MARUT Hackers and strategically attacked by the MARUT Force, started a massive fire that engulfed nearly the whole of the city. Using this immense confusion, the HNMN142 successfully escaped from Lanka.

The burning skyline of Lanka, the magnificent city of Ravan, heralded the destruction that would soon follow.

The Doomed Male Chauvinist Pig

2010-06-11T11:09:00.002+05:30

First of all I am not a chauvinist according to the dictionary or rather wikipedia meaning. In fact MCP is a moniker bestowed upon me by a sister whom I have never met face to face. The fact of this sister being an ardent feminist and female chauvinist should be the enough explanation.

The classic definitions notwithstanding, I do consider myself a chauvinist in the modern sense. I am a person who believes in firm equality, no preferences either way. I definitely do not believe that there should be reservations or special considerations shown to women. This extreme sense of equality bestowed upon me the aura of being a chauvinist.

In today's world, especially in the cyber world equality is rather unfashionable. The classic "Damsel in Distress" brings the "white knights" pouring in for assistance. In blogosphere and twitter world, everywhere the chivalrous White Knights rule the day. But is that really needed? Is that conducive to equality?

When a man is in trouble we tell him to "bear up and move on". There is an expectation on a man to be stoic in the troubles, a man is not supposed to seek pity, even if he seeks he is ignored. However if it is a woman in comparable situation you have a horde waiting in the wings, with coats thrown over the puddles and they themselves lying down to build a bridge of jelly backs for the woman to cross the troubles comfortably. Why cant the same standards be applied to both sexes?

This essentially brings me to the premise of this post.

Men are essentially doomed.

Bound to a spartan emotional existence, the code of stoicism ever present upon their lives, we men are essentially doomed. The White Knight Chivalry which creates more and more chauvinism means that equality between men and women are as distant as it ever was.

The most unfair of this code is the rule prohibiting tears. Men are not supposed to cry, only women cry. Hell, then why did evolution give us tear ducts in the eyes! It is as part of the stoic code by which men are supposed to bear all hardships imposed upon them, and never to falter.

In the traditional chauvinistic code men are the pillars of the family, the strength of their visage expected to give stability during all crises. When the womenfolk and children have the right to cry, the man has to remain steady, his eyes dry and his shoulders broad for all to lean upon. But what about the man himself? A man is not just an automaton. In the entire oceans of literature on feminine sensitivities not much considerations have been given to the equally poignant male sensitivities. Why? The code of chivalry and chauvinism which seeks to portray men as super figures, which essentially dooms them.

We Male Chauvinistic Pigs, thus deprived of a release to our own emotional torrents are more torn from inside, the slow poison of suppression seeping out through every actions and words. The feminists and female chauvinists make great hue and cry over the brutality of men, but ever understand that the brutality is a result of the repressed emotions.

In fact in my opinion it is the males who have been wronged against. Females have more freedom in this respect than males, which generally increases their longevity.

It is unlikely how this state of affairs would ever change since the White Knights of the world would keep on trumpeting away spreading their chivalry and chauvinism for the continued inequality in the world.

In a world like this a true seeker of equality like me is branded a Male Chauvinist Pig, which leaves me no recourse other than to finish this post to polish my badges and snout proclaiming "MCP"

Dangerous Indescretions

2010-06-03T23:59:00.002+05:30

Have you ever written your name as Saddam Hussein in some security register? Have you ever written a commentary on Rwandan genocide in a University exam answer paper? Have you ever said an unforgivable word like "fuck" or "holy shit" in a temple?

Yours truly is guilty of all the above and once again expresses his regret over the aforementioned offenses.

There are certain times in life when we brand ourselves as "cool", "fun" and "freaky" people. After all who would look through a dreary old register at security shack in an apartment complex? Surely it is a laugh if we use the said columns to propagate the memory of the long executed freakshow. This was what I thought until one day my super-serious cousin bro and normally cool bro-in-law all but chewed my posterior. Of course in retrospection in a more serious perspective it is highly irresponsible, dangerous and even a felony!

But seriously, haven't you ever seen the name column and wanted to write out something crazy? For me it is actually a debilitating disease. As a perennially boring chap, moving from boring drudgery to monotonic dudgeon, impulses of insanity are usually stacked up just below the cuticles. Fellow Wodehousians may have heard about how the inimitable Gussie scaled the Everests and Kanchenjunga's of levity on being varnished slightly with that exalted product of Scotland, and wrought absolute havoc in the peaceful country side. The said incident was attributed by our exalted sage, Guru Sri Sri Jeeves as the effect of highly repressed and contained lunacy being expressed in an afternoon as a torrent. The sagatic butler in fact recommends that all such lunacies must be discharged at equitable rates of release over time, rather than letting the pressure build up.

Now if similarities are being brought with the phenomenon of volcanoes it is purely incidental.

Coming back to the issue, such is the case of lunacy with me. Times of extraordinary mental and emotional upheavals can bring out levity and lunacy in excessive measures which causes one to be truly break all conventional concepts of discretion!

(Wow!! I used another movie phrase of Mohan Lal.)

The Saddam Hussein incident has been well explained earlier which ended with the penitent me, sneaking down to the guard shack and slyly retrieving the register to alter the entries.

The treatise on Rwandan genocide is of course another rather sensitive era from my saga, a product of my long patronage of MG University. Having had the honor of providing to the coffers of this exalted institution for the past seven years I have also been entrusted with the burden of occasionally having to answer certain question papers for passing certain subjects. Now the question papers are excellent objects, nicely worded, clearly printed but with its contents usually incoherant. Now as the reader can realize yours only is not handicapped in reading, nor in the grasp of English, some even go on to say the grasp is a stranglehold. The incoherence is due to a biological aversion yours only exhibits towards certain subjects part of the syllabus of Electrical Engineering. When faced with text books or question papers related to these subjects I used to have the unfortunate allergic reaction of going mentally blank and going into alternate mnemonic universes. The advent of such mnemonic universes and near presence of pen and paper is a sure recipe for disaster as yours truly realized that sweltering hot May afternoon.

The highly intelligent, well researched, well thought out and exceptionally written treatise on the ghastly genocides in Africa had been written on a good 8 whole pages of answer paper (both sides) which even required one to ask for 4 extra sheets! This treatise which could be considered for doctoral studies in Conflict Management instead was destined to be penalized by the University. The examiner who read the answer paper, instead of laughing it off (as one hoped he would), was affronted by righteous indignation and recommended me for punishment.

Thus ensued a few months of running around in the pristine campus of this exalted University amidst extremely friendly and cooperative University staff, who very helpfully assisted yours truly to lose unnecessary weight in torso, legs and most importantly head.

Suffice to say, due to grace of Heaven and University I escaped with no lasting repercussions.

The third example is not worthy of detailed explanation as I am sure it is also an experience shared by N number of my friends in any temple crowd with a high percentage of extremely beautiful girls. It is a normal reaction but again rather frowned upon by more wiser peers and considered sufficient for excommunication by the more fanatic elders.

This long winded narration of one's idiocies is to present a more serious conundrum.

What would happen if one becomes indescreet in the Cyber world. With its pretenses of anonymity and free speech is there similar cause for discretion in the world of internet? A rather sharply worded blog, a feverish comment in a forum, a highly volatile chat conversation. Can any of these come back to bite us in the ass in the future?

Consider this. Say I launch into a diatribe against certain highly respected and pious Ministers of Govt of India. Now I may not post it in a blog, but in some random forum corresponding to some random game. If in a fictitious future I am being subjected to a background check for some government post, would this indiscreet comment be dug up and produced as yolk in my very austere face?

Having had to see something I never hoped to see again presented to me by authority is a rude shock. I have experienced that in that scary and hot afternoon in MG University when like a zombie rising from the grave, first a photostat then the original answer sheet was conjured in front of me by the deceptively sweet official. Believe me, it is no fun to see the evidences of your lunacy being displayed before you in tense circumstances.

Now a lot of bloggers in the blogosphere are doubtless typing away in merry abandonment under the guise of anonymity. My worry is, is there anything as such? Should I make allowances of premonitions of some future official waving transcripts of an indiscreet blogpost while typing something reactionary? Should I do second thinking while discussing non conventional topics with an acquaintance in IRC?

Seeing as I am interested in Cyber Policing myself, it would be interesting if this blog post on Cyber Policing is waved in front of me as an evidence of intransigence and indiscretion in a future job interview!! :D

Day 11 - Revelation

2010-05-28T20:12:00.001+05:30

It is a cloudless night at Badrinath. The remote pilgrimage town is under the benign glow of the towering Mt. Neelakanta, shimmering in the bright moonlight. However I am not able to see this divine sight. Nor can I hear the lolling melodies of countless temple bells tolling in the beautifully lighted temple by the river. Neither am I able to smell that beautiful fresh air which is wafting from the mountain.

The long journey from Ernakulam to Badrinath terminated in a moment of breathlessness as I gained the first sight of the beautiful valley, shepherded by the massive snow clad peaks of Himalayas. The spartan accommodations at the ashram I stayed and the wheezy breathlessness of the thin mountain air did not however dampen my excitement at arriving at Badrinath. The weariness and cramps of the long bus ride from Haridwar was soothed to a measure by a bath in blistering hot waters of the natural springs that abound in this region.

Piety in a hitherto unexpressed measure enveloped me in my numerous visits to the temple to pray to the Lord. The throngs of people coming to see a glimpse of the Lord did nothing to mar the serenity that seemed to engulf this confirmed introvert.

Then there was the trek to Mana village, a quaint and charming little village a few kilometers further north towards Tibet border. Drawing from my fading memories of Vaishno Devi I had procured a sturdy staff for the trek through the winding road between countless Ashrams set in very serene ambience. I learned that the little village is mostly a shopping experience so I did not linger here for long and soon crossed the river which was now only a miniature reminder of the torrent that I passed by in the lower valleys.

This is the route for the trek towards Vasudhara Falls and the route towards Gangothri glacier and Kedarnath trek. In my so called "peak" physical conditioning I did not trust myself to make this trip.

So I set out for my main objective for the trip - the Satopath Glacier and Mt. Neelkanth. The snow clad mountain had caught my fancy during the painstaking reconnaissance I conducted using Google Earth and it has always been my dream to visit such a snow clad mountain, to see the glaciers of Himalaya before it is too late.

However at this point of time, I realize I cannot, I must not write about this experience.

It has always been my experience that if I ever fantasize about something, it gets jinxed, it never happens. Since most of my fantasies are of rather extravagant nature, this is of no problem, but here is a fantasy which I fully intend to relive. Hence I shall desist myself from fantasizing about my experiences in Mt. Neelkanth.

Bada Bing Boosh.

Yes. This entire series of narrative/travelogue is a work of fiction. A work of desperation by a wander lusty person destined to be confined to his home for an indefinable extent of time. This is the product of hours of fantasizing over Google earth and its vibrant imagery.

This is a blog post that has been directly caused by the remarkable experience of a particular Google Earth route tour I made, a depiction of a fantasy to drive from my home to Badrinath over a distance of 2,977 kilometers (yes, distance too has been plotted by Google Earth).

So before I am accused of being a shameless unpaid / unsolicited advertisement of Google Earth, I apologize to anyone who felt I had actually undertaken this journey. The facts mentioned in this narrative are true, the wonders of internet gives us a plethora of information to enable us to plan any trip, any where to the last rupee (dollar to Non Indians, :P). The sad thing is that despite such facilities being available, one is constrained from traveling.

I do however promise this, when I actually make this journey I shall endeavor to create an even more colorful narrative of it. I only hope that by the time I get to travel to these places Global Warming would not have robbed the snowy whiteness of these mountains and glaciers.

Well if that happens, I still have my fantasy world to sink into! :)

Day 4 - A road through Mountains

2010-05-21T14:30:00.002+05:30

I think I would start off by congratulating myself for the dexterous feat I accomplished just to facilitate this blog post. After all managing to balance a laptop in the confined space of a bus is no mean feat for an Obelix'esque person like me. Really glad to find Airtel range here.

The bus has now stopped at Srinagar, a nice little town by the banks of Alakananda River. All today morning I had been looking to find a place with decent range to post this. No idea how range would be at my destination and besides yesterday's accounts must be stored.

Yesterday I reached New Delhi Railway Station at 1.30 PM in the afternoon. It was blistering hot. I had forgotten how hot New Delhi could be in May, but of course I was reminded of that tiny little fact in a mega hurry. After hurriedly jumping out of train lugging my backpack and grip my first order of business was to find out where the Utkal Express is coming. This would be a true test of the punctuality and truthfulness of the IRCTC website. Having reached Delhi Railway Station at 1330 at 1445 I was to board this train to reach my next point in this journey, Haridwar.

The first person I saw at the platform was a Police guy. I asked him and all I received was a confused stare. Rather than worrying about whether I had spoken in Hindi or English I immediately hailed Tea vendor walking by. Now this person was more helpful and soon I made my mad dash across the station to the platform where the train had to come.

Thank God that I was well in time. 30 minutes of waiting later the train slowly chugged into the platform and was comfortably seated in my Sleeper Class compartment. Though there was no chance of me having to sleep for this leg of journey I had guessed that it would be better to get a proper sleeper ticket than waging my health and sanity in a sitting or general compartment.

The train ride from New Delhi to Haridwar was rather unremarkable. Field stretching as far as eye can see, glimpses of rural agrarian life that quite never change with the passage of centuries, though occasional SUVs stand testament to the prosperity of these areas.

It was night about 8.45 when I reached Haridwar Railway Station. Along with the cohorts of commuters returning home after a day of work I got off the station. This would be the end of my train borne travel in this trip.

Passing by a dried up pool with a massive bust of Lord Shiva looking towards the distant mountains, I crossed the road and walked the few meters to the Central Bus Stand. At this time the station was idling to a halt. I walked up to the office and enquired about the first bus to my destination - 5 AM. Second Bus? 6 AM.

Well nothing to be done other than try to get a few hours of sleep. Having planned the trip in some detail I had already made enquiries at the Rahi Motel, a government run facility which is quite near the Railway Station and Bus Stand. Since this is a Government run hotel and since I would be there for barely a few hours, I did not book myself a room, rather I booked myself a dormitory bed. After having a hurried dinner at the attached restaurant, I took a bath in the frigid water and was off to sleep. Having secured my bags with chains to the bed's foot, my head barely made contact with the pillow when the "Evil Laughter" ringtone of my mobile phone woke me up at 4 AM in the morning.

Hardly comprehending where I was and what I was doing, in the memory of being in my bed at home I was about to deactivate the alarm and get back to sleep when my awareness caught up. Yesterday I had arranged with the attender with a reminder of 10 rupees to wake me at 0415 if I did not wake up by myself. A 0415 the helpful savant was promptly in the dorm and I thanked him with another 10 rupees which I hope made his day, because he for one set off happily to fetch me some tea.

Since hot water would be available only at 7AM, I had another bath in the freezing cold water. My chattering teeth and shivering limbs would have woken up the other people sleeping but I dressed fast and welcomed with great thanks the steaming cup of cardamom tea the attender brought me. At 0430 I had settled my dues and walked the few meters to the Bus stand.

The sweater I was wearing and the scarf I had around my head was very helpful in the early morning cold. Breathing light puffs of air reminiscent of the smoking I quit some months back, I walked into the station, bought the ticket standing in a short queue and boarded the bus.

Having reconned the route through the beloved Google Earth I knew that a window seat towards the right would be the best. Unfortunately the seat, though comfortably cushioned did not have much leg space. Condemning myself to a long drive with cramped legs I stowed my grip on the over head luggage area and kept my backpack under my knees and waited for the bus to start.

Breakfast at Devprayag was picturesque affair. The town at the confluence of Bhagirathi and Alakananda, two legendary tributaries of River Ganga was first seen as the road wound by a terraced hill. Nestled at the foothills of green clad mountain, this is the point from which River Ganga officially is formed from its main tributaries. The drive towards the town gave several beautiful vantages which made me bemoan my woeful lack of a good camera. Somehow I knew that the pitiable camera on my Karbonn K10, the poor man's Blackberry or the poor man's Koratty (QWERTY) phone would not do justice to this vision. The incredibly tasty Poori Masala at the bus's breakfast stop was a fitting accompaniment to the beautiful town.

Several more kilometers of picturesque mountain roads, with the River Alakananda to the right and sheer walls of mountains to the left now I am here at Srinagar. A rather unremarkable North Indian Thali meal having been consumed now I am sitting in my seat waiting for the bus to start. I am halfway on the last leg of my onward journey, a journey of 312 km of which around 185 kilometers is still ahead of me.

I am sure that this last leg would be the most picturesque of my travel.

Day Two - Memories

2010-05-19T19:28:00.001+05:30

Today was a day of memories and quiet reflection. After all what else is one supposed to when cooped up inside a railway compartment?

I had checked the timetable in wiki and had also confirmed with the Ticket Inspector that we would be reaching Vijayawada at around 10.15 today morning. The greenish daylight streaming through the tinted glass of the window woke up me a long before that and I readied myself for a ritual I would be continuing after a gap of 16 or so years.

Until my fifth standard when I joined my school, the Bhavan's Vidya Mandir at Eroor, Tripunithura I used to live at New Delhi. Father was employed at Indian Airlines there and mother did her post graduation studies there. Until the last few years of my life a Dilli walla, as my maternal grandpa used to call me, the annual train ride from Delhi to Kerala and back was a routine affair. In the last years, viz, 1993, 1994 and 1995 the journey was made through flight.

However those train rides are amongst the most memorable events of my childhood. It was a tradition taught to me by my father that whenever we go through the railway bridge over River Krishna near Vijayawada Station we throw coins into the river. Mostly it was done from the window, but I do have a vague memory of a frightening throw from the open door of the compartment. Only once did I miss throwing of the coins and it marred my mood for the rest of the journey.

This time as a hefty heavy 24 year old, no more being a pussy and throwing the coin from the window. Besides windows in AC compartments can't be opened. So there I stood by the open door of the slowing train looking into the vast river below me. The sound of the echoing wheels magnified by the resonance of river bed was a scintillating experience. Adventurous I might purport myself to be, but foolhardy I am not, so it was only after maintaining a firm grip and even firmer foothold that I flung the 2 rupee coin to the depths of the river, hopefully never to be touched by a human hand again. Hopefully.

As I returned back to my seat and looked around at my fellow passengers settling down for the day, I thought back towards the various memories associated with these trips. Back then I was supposed to be a boisterous and rather cheeky little devil, insinuations I strongly oppose with threats of libel nowadays. But it was a truth that I mingled a lot more with people. I remember the Air Force guy who was the split image of movie star Mammootty. I had actually thought it was the legendary "Woody Shoveler" himself that I felt too intimidated to approach him. Finally collecting whatever courage I had at my 6 years of age, I went and talked to him. Turned out he is an Air Force guy, a Malayali going back home. For the next three days we were inseparable, always talking to each other, going to my parents only for food and sleep. I still remember him showing me his driving license which had him as an unrecognizable teen with a shaven head. Wonder where he is now!

Then of course there is that interesting young couple whose supposedly mysterious antics have revealed themselves to me as an adult. At that time, I just thought them such a nice and charming "Chetan" (brother) and "Chechi" (sister) who were both sleeping on the same middle berth. How uncomfortable! Why couldn't they sleep in their own individual berths? They would have been so much more comfortable. These puzzling questions are now revealed to the merriment of my dirty mind.

Another memory is that of the two youth with whom I had developed a great friendship. However since this bonhomie caused me to forget and miss throwing the coin into River Krishna, as mentioned earlier I was sullen forthwith.

All these memories of a long past childhood is awakened in me by the day's journey. The boisterousness that I was accused of having back then has long been extinct.

Rest of the day was spent mainly sleeping, reading and generally day dreaming by me. Only in the past few minutes have I been able to access the net. Apparently the glories to Airtel did not reach their headquarters. Might as well catch a few more winks as tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.

Day One - Start

2010-05-18T20:00:00.002+05:30

The train is chugging on to Coimbatore Railway Station. Already my stomach is grumbling due to hunger. The IRCTC supplier said we would get the food after leaving Coimbatore. Hope he is right.

It is officially 4 hours since my journey has begun. Carrying my trusted Wildcraft backpack and a shoulder grip I caught a bus to Ernakulam Junction, or as we Kochiites say, South Railway station. I thought of going by auto, but why waste good money for this short stretch when even more expenditure is in the offing in the next few days?

Ticket ready, I only had to wait for about 20 minutes when the Indian Railway gave me a rather pleasant surprise, the Kerala Express is 5 minutes early!! I am sure this would be one of those rare documentations of any train in India not only being punctual, but actually arriving early. Glory be to Mamta! Wish it was Mohandas, but alas it is Bannerjee.

It is after an extremely long time that I am undergoing such a long journey in train, that too in AC. As our inimitable Tharoor expressed to his sorrow, I am a patron of the "cattle class" general compartment or ordinary Sleeper compartment. However owing to the long nature of this journey, a 3 day leg from Ernakulam to New Delhi, I judged this to be a requisite luxury.

It has always been my observation that railway stations are vortexes where people from all walks of life can be seen. A train journey is in fact a microcosm of life. I dont know whether I have blogged about this before, but there you have it. You see people from all walks of life, you see so many interesting people, interesting sights and sounds, experience the overwhelming plethora of aroma that truly describes India in all its glory and vitality. However this cornucopia of experiences cannot be experienced from within the cloistered cubicles of AC compartments. Within the filtered and refrigerated air of AC compartments, where the world outside is separated by an insulated darkened piece of glass, there is a distinct separation which imparts a pall of gray upon the journey. No more hawkers, no more rain, no more sun light, no more smells of Chilli Bajji and open sewage, no more shrill cries of "Chaai, Chaai, Uzhunna vadaa, parippu vadaa". In AC compartments I have usually found that people are more stiff, despite the comfortable ambience. You would think that in the coolness of Air Conditioning and the inherent privacy offered by these exclusive compartments, people would become more freer. Unfortunately not as I observed around my fellow travelers.

There is this family, an uncle, aunty and two sons, one of whom is apparently being taken for admission into some college in New Delhi. Then there is this stern "Velma"ish girl who is traveling alone to who knows where and some business man guy, who spends all the time reading some MBA textbooks. I hoped the boys would provide some merriment, but alas, compared to them Vajpayee is a raving party animal. As is customary for all my fantasies regarding meeting cute girls in trains or buses, the stern visage of Ms. Uber Serious put paid to that. Rather unfortunate that even ocular enjoyment could not even be had in this case. As I said to a cousin brother recently, Paapi Chennidam Pathalam (Wherever a Sinner goes, Hell would follow).

Since there is no entertainment to be had from within the compartment, the speeding countryside through the darkened windows had to do. Standing my the compartment window and watching the sunset did offer a respite, but otherwise I had to depend on the laptop I "procured" from my mother to banish the boredom.

Since this trip is going to be rather longish, it would be reckless if I burn up the batteries on the first leg of the travel itself.

And now I hear the sounds of the supplier bringing in the food trays, and thus heralding an activity that takes precedence over any mundane activity such as blogging.

So paying a final tribute to Airtel GPRS which is helping me make this blogpost, I am signing off.

Wish me Bon Appetit. :D

Closet Megalomaniac

2010-05-16T21:41:00.003+05:30

Everyone of us has some pet fantasy. Some fantasies are innocent, but some are downright criminal. I consider my fantasy to be megalomania, a fantasy I am proud to share with other stalwarts like Alexander (The Great one), Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, George Dubya Bush, V.S. Achutanandan and Mangalassery Neelakantan.

Now I do not claim to fit into the ranks of these people, a proven deficiency in smart leadership skills mean that I would never actually wield the power to bring effect to my megalomania.

No, my megalomania is more expressed through my day dreams and for the past 2+years through my writing. No millions shall suffer, only about a few dozen hapless chaps.

Just like most momentous things in life, my association with Cybernations started on a lark in December 2007. Settling into my tenure as a CI (Chumma Irippu (Sitting Idly)) random browsing brought me to this site. A massively multiplayer online role playing game, it caught my fancy when i was looking for an alternative to Age of Empires 2, that archaic game which however was most loved by me. A purely text based game this was something I could play more safely. The embarrassment and shame of getting one's car careening off perfectly good roads and of oneself being made a human strainer mere seconds into the game can be avoided in this particular game.

Thus started an addiction that required but mere minutes per day, but every day. A new world was opened up for me, a world where inter personal relationships is the name of the game, a game where one's identity was forever replaced by a virtual alias. This association in time brought me in contact with the subject matter of this diatribe.

Cybernations Role Playing, or CNRP is an alternate history role playing timeline where we act out as nations on the world map. The geography is the same but the political and demographic pattern is entirely different. Starting from Western China and Kazakhstan , now I control India as part of the Kingdom of Cochin.

More than an year of RPing has literally been a dream come true. All my pet fantasies I have been able to portray with words in this medium. As a person with an unhealthy interest in things military, here I am able to RP massive armies, navies and air forces. I am able to create visualizations of combat scenes of my own imaginations. All the characters of my various megalomaniac dreams, the rugged and spartan General, the suave and gentleman diplomat, the wise and philosophical King, the troubled middle aged man, in short all fantasies which I dream of living I have portrayed here in varying degrees of success. Some have been downright shabby, testament to my immaturity as a writer failing to impress even my own deplorable standards of critique, but some living up to my expectations.

Now here is a coronation scene that I visualized. Of course it is downright silly and stupid, but somehow satisfying to my fantasies!

Coronation

Here is an attempt to visualize my long cherished dream of travel to Himalayas which came out disastrously. Something I started writing with lots of hopes, crashed and burned like a Chinese made fighter jet flown by PAF.

Refuge in Recluse

Another portrayal of various characters in my imagination. Again works in progress, though the commando one i liked, however unrealistic it is.

Perspectives and Perceptions

Then of course the ridiculously named Space Station and various other portrayal of my favorite technologies.

All these have been churned out to satisfy my megalomaniac impulses. Since my long dead ancestors so willingly ceded their Kingdoms to the Republic of India and since I do not deem myself smart enough to be a politician, this is the only avenue left open to me. Now for those who accuse me of plain wild fantasy I challenge them to bring forthwith any building permits required for constructing castles in the sky.

It is also an attempt to develop my feeble writing abilities. It is a part of my long term strategy of subtle sadism under which I intend to torture more and more people with my writing. Ever since this blog of mine raised some disheartening comments from well wishers, CNRP provided an anonymous channel to vent out my ideas.

A concentration of exceedingly talented and gifted writers in that community however has been successful in periodically bringing me back to crushing reality. Then of course I also try to copy from their style, forgive me lynneth, sarah and co.

Well this diatribe anyway petered out nonsensically as it was supposed to so, bye. Do read the forums where these threads lie, you may read some excellent write ups by other role players over there. Look for the above two thread starters, :)

Fokkers and Messerschmitts

2010-05-15T23:11:00.002+05:30

Now please do not fall for the title which is bound to enthuse aviation enthusiasts. This post is not about aeroplanes. The title is in fact a subterfuge to mask my reluctance to use the word fuck in the title itself.

Now any reasonably intelligent adult knows the meaning of this popular word, and sadly a large percentage of our teenage population too. Especially for us malayalees this is a word that has been popularized as part of thrilling vocabulary of our super human film actors, like Suresh Gopi and Mohan Lal.

Now the etymology of this word is rather complex and I give that job to my trusty sidekick, Senor Wikipedia. Disambiguating the word, the old faithful would also show you that unfortunate village in Austria and of course the protagonist from the title.

Now before I meander further let me get back to the premise of this post.

A short while ago, I read a lamentation by a friend of mine that she just heard her 11 year old brother using this in connection with some forgetfulness regarding his bike. The concerned elder sister was worrying about the state of the teenagers these days when I considered, did the kid know the meaning of this word when he used it or did he use it just as part of a generic swear vocabulary?

That took me back to my schooling days, an era when I was woefully immature and worldly unaware compared to my peers. The crash course in world awareness that I received in my immediate post schooling weeks was far away in an unseen distant future at the time of this flashback. This was the time when the word "Fuck" became popular in our school, at least to my perception. At every intervals, and even during classes when the teacher's attention is drawn to the misnamed black board, guys used to flash their middle finger at each other, and the recipients used to genuinely flinch as if this was some curse bestowed upon him by the rowdy flasher.

As a perennial idiot it took me a rather long time to figure out that this flashing of middle finger was equivalent to a swear, the number of hands involved showing the magnitude of implied swear. Of course the fact that this involved me being bestowed this tertius greeting innumerable times.

Those days I used to walk home from the bus stop with a good friend of mine, a more world wise and swear wise friend of mine. I must say rather a major part of my middle finger quota was received from this esteemed gent. As an extremely timid, innocent and extremely stupid kid I was afraid of using the middle finger. But this one day angry after around 73 middle finger flashes I finally took courage and showed him the finger.

Like Wild Bill Hickok drawing his trusty 1851 .36 Navys, three fingers curled upon themselves, leaving an erect thumb and middle finger and the hand was raised. The shock that was exhibited by my cunning friend however brought a massive remorse upon me. Habitual loser that I was I apologized to him, repeatedly. Finally after innumerable "how could you"s and "Sorry, sorry, sorry"s he finally told me that the gesture stood for the word "Fuck."

I was nonplussed. I had never heard of the word before and had no idea why that should have such grave connotations!

I asked him what is its meaning. This friend of mine, well knowledgeable though he was about my very many idiocies was goggling at me his mouth wide open and his eyes projecting outwards. A few more seconds and he would have been a case destined for an ophthalmologist.

The astonishment was replaced with a burst of wild laughter. Career etymologists please take note, this incident which happened in 1997-98 could be the first exhibition of "Roll On The Floor with Laughter".

The determined me, kept on the case and again asked him the meaning of the word. A few minutes later when his laughter subsided he told me he could not explain it to me, he has no idea how to explain it to me. Then he pleaded laughter induced stomach ache as an excuse and went home.

Perplexed and confused I went home and took out my trusted World Book Encyclopedia. The 24 volume leather bound encyclopedia had been my trusted adviser for years, solving almost all my doubts. However World Book was not helpful. I took out Oxford English Dictionary. The vaunted product of tall and shiny crania of the mossy English college was also unhelpful. Finally I took out DC Books Dictionary, a more earthy work of language. And there the meaning of the word was explained very concisely. However now that I understood the meaning of the word and the implied meaning of the swear word I was confused as to how it is a derogatory insult?

That is a confusion that has lasted in me till now. As a 24 year old virgin male, I would consider some one accusing me of having sex as rather a complement, not an insult. But I suppose some people would consider that as an insult, committed celebates, unmarried chaste women etc.

This is why I am bemused when a lot of people use this word as part of their daily vocabulary.

You dislike a person? Call him "Fuck You." Now is that not a positive statement? Expressing an intent of having sexual relations is obviously an expression of complement! How is that an insult?

When your vehicle refuses to start or a particularly nasty piece of work ruins your day, your exasperation calls upon you to state, "Fuck it." Now that is a biological impossibility!

All these millions of people all over the world who use this word, are they really aware of what they are really saying? Even people who are officially aware of its meaning, use it without comprehending it as a regular phrase of choice, then how can anyone blame innocent kids for using this phrase in order to look "cool" ?

It is all rather confusing for me, I wonder whether I would ever understand the implications of all those phrases we use this word with, I wonder whether I even want to know, :P

Blog Mania

2010-05-14T21:58:00.002+05:30

Of late I have been following a lot of interesting blogs and twitter pages. It is rather remarkable with the availability of this easy publishing tool so much creativity is being shared. All those inhumanly funny people, who could not afford to vent out their jokes in public for fear of bodily harm can now air it openly without fear of immediate physical response. Though the improvement in transportation technology and emergent technologies would make sure that the time delay in response would be bridged. Especially if the protagonists are just across the building or office.

However the fact remains, a lot more humorists now have an avenue. Then there are the intellectuals who have found a platform to articulate their wisdom without fear of being chastised by the less cerebral of their more muscular peers. Here they can truly live up to their mental image of intellectual wisdom and bask in satisfaction of finally doing a Galileo without the spiked drink after effects.

Then of course there are the self styled educators, who finally gain a platform to spread their knowledge to the invisible and ignorant masses. These are people whose knowledge and ideas are forced to be suppressed by occasional outbursts from the ignorants like, "Says Who?" "Do you have a degree to prove your credentials?". In an age where the letters on a parchment is the arbiter of intelligence and social worth of a person, an engineer is not supposed to speak about history, an undergraduate is not supposed to speak authoritatively on any subject to a graduate, let alone or a post graduate. However in the rarified reaches of internet, where degrees are mere pixels, unproven, unverified, it is a true battle of knowledge, the way it should have been in the real life.

Now this post is not a glorious tribute to these literati. It is to ask another simple question: What the hell are non humorous, non articulative, non intellectual masses like Yours Only supposed to do? Should people with inconsequential literary capabilities be permitted to publish? Should mediocrity exist alongside excellence?

I think yes. After all how would you recognize the worth of a diamond if it is not surrounded by tons of dirt? If it lies in a heap of diamonds, it is just yet another sparkling stone.

Coming back to blogging and tweeting, this is another aspect I have noted, retweets and "following". While there are people like me who acknowledge the incurable deficiency of the humor bone and try to live with this misfortune, there are those who wildly want to be acknowledged as humorous.

Of course they spare us the horrors of having to read works of their exalted cranium, but they lose no chance of retweeting contents of the most popular blogs or twitter pages. Just like the early days of orkut when a person's e-peen was measured by the number of "friends" a person has and a person's "coolness" is measured by the communities they are part of, now it is the blogs they follow, and the tweets they retweet.

Anyway now I dont seem to find any more nonsense to write about, so might as well post it.

Another terrorist convicted - Another Afzal Guru???

2010-05-06T22:35:00.002+05:30

Ajmal Kasab, the rampager, has been sentenced to death by hanging. Quite deserving of applause, this judgment is. However I hardly think he, or his supporters would lose a moment's cool by this act, which may prove only a prelude to the drama to be unleashed by the lotus eaters of Indian polity.

On the day Ajmal Kasab has been sentenced to death, a number of Indians ask this question. Six years back, another terrorist was sentenced to death. He is still living, having evaded his sentence for the past 4 years. The person who master minded an attack on the very symbol of India's democracy, still lives under the patronage of Indian Taxpayer. By all accounts it looks like he is assured of a safe and secure future with full facilities in Indian Penal System.

I would not be surprised if Kasab also received the same treatment. Most likely 5 years from today, we would still be seeing clemency requests filed on behalf of these terrorists by the exalted "human rights groups.

There are people who raise the arguments about our being a civilized society, about the disdain for "an eye for an eye". Sure closseted in their safe and secure environs, they can claim so. However they forget that the moment society loses the belief in crime and punishment, law and order would fail.

Not long ago TV news channels had run back to back videos of mob atrocities, people taking law into their hands to punish criminals. Those were truly ugly scenes. Those are the results of the above mentioned loss of trust in law and order. When judiciary and government proves themselves unwilling to protect the citizens, the people are bound to take the law into their own hands. Otherwise it is unrealistic to expect people to lie down and let their lives be violated with impunity.

Kasab should be executed, and there should not be any extension to his sentence. Let there not be another mockery of India. For each day these terrorists live beyond their sentenced hour, the terrorists and anti-national forces get emboldened.

Imprisonment is no punishment for them either. For certain classes of criminals death is the only punishment. Incarceration is for two purposes, rehabilitation and punishment. These criminals refuse to be rehabilitated. They are supposed to be incarcerated, aka removed from society to prevent their harms upon it, but it rarely works that way. We know several instances of criminals operating from within the walls of prisons. Even a state was ruled from within prison. Also these terrorists being incarcerated only create more opportunities and enticements for further terrorist acts.

Another Rubaiyya Sayeed incident and our political over lords would bend over backwards and further beyond to protect one of their own, even if it is to release most deadly criminals. Another Kandahar incident and countless innocent citizens would be put under threat of death to free these scum. Why create such opportunities?

These scum have been interrogated extensively, every last bit of intelligence has been extracted, their complicity and the hand of their parent nation has been proved beyond reproach. Now enough with dossier bombing and just execute him.

Society needs retribution, society needs revenge. Provide it, else society will take matters into its own hands. Then things would get ugly. Very ugly indeed.

The end - Doors

2009-03-12T16:17:00.000+05:30

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
Ill never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...strangers hand
In a...desperate land

Lost in a roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

Theres danger on the edge of town
Ride the kings highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby

Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...hes old, and his skin is cold

The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and well do the rest

The blue bus is callin us
The blue bus is callin us
Driver, where you taken us

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...i want to...fuck you

Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin a blue rock
Cmon, yeah
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But youll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end
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A day of deaths

2008-11-02T18:07:00.002+05:30

Today i encountered two deaths. One was the death of an old musician, one well past his seventies. He had a steadily deteriorating health and finally succombed to the frailties of age.
The other was the accidental death of a young man in a road accident. He left behind a young wife and a 9 year old daughter.
It was a poignant day.
The sorrow and loss is real. But now in aftermath, what i think is why is this affecting me so hard?
what i am thinking is which death would i have? One is a natural death after a life long and well lived. But in his failing years his family had to witness the wilting away of one loved. He had to suffer through the pains and indignities of old age. would i like to impose such a horror on my successors? i think not.
in the other alternative a life half lived was wasted away at the tires of the instrument of death we Malayalees call "Tipper Truck". This unnatural death made an stupendous loss to his family. The man's mother is in hospital unable to comprehend the death of her son, a promised and loving son.
On consideration i am more likely to face the second death seeing as I am a person who has to commute a lot tackling roads and traffics that are the greatest homiciders around.
But the question is would i like to impose such horrors on my family? i am a person who loves my family a lot. I am not naive enough to suggest that i may live a bachelor life, no my hormones and again considerations for my parents null that option. and again do i want to have the death that old maestro had? No.
so what is a person to do? if i am to have an accidental death that is surely beyond my control. If i let a fear of such a death influence my life I would be the greatest fool ever. But if by god's grace i survive to live long, would i want to impose such horrors on my family? i am really afraid that it too might be out of control. after all family too wants to impose their own restrictions once one gets past an age.
so now is the time to develop alternative strategies!!!
i have always dreamed of going on pilgrimage on my waning years. the idea arose from reading a story where the chief minister of a princely state in pre-independence era, after retiring from his job and fulfilling all his duties like seeing his children well settled left his home with his wife to lead a life as a rustic pilgrim. in ancient times it was called "Vanaprastha". it is a shame that today that is no longer considered possible.
My dream is to leave my home after an age of 60 or so and elope to Himalayas!!! wont it be great and peaceful to die amongst the stars and the snow? of course in one way it is ignominable. I will be hurting my family but still if i could make them understand my ideology wont that be the greatest way to leave this world?
Reaching Haridwar spending time in satsang with sages at the banks of Ganga and then ascending to the Himalayas in search of the final resting place!!! Elephants have their legendary elephant grave yards so why cant have one?
That is a question!!!
but of course all this is possible only if i live to the age of 60!!! going by the present rate i dont give much betting chance to that!!! Traffic and Solanaceae have a greater odds of getting to me!!!

Logging out for next season.

2008-10-05T13:05:00.003+05:30

i am leaving bangalore and my job for about 2 months as it is time for my semi-annual season. this is not duck hunting, witch hunting or even because of winter season, but even more ominous my exam season.

so yesterday after bidding adieu to my beloved site at nagawara i took early leave and came home. now i am at my bro's home in sarjapur. on the way over i started to reminiscense with my other bro with whom i stay. he just experienced an accident in which his car was spoilt due to his courteousness. he was taking a legal U turn at mekhri circle to go to his office when he slowed down to let an elderly couple pass. after they passed while he was taking the turn a dumb-ass omni driver who was bumper to bumper tookthe curve on the inside when there was barely a space for a cycle to go. my bro's car's entire right side was scratched and the right rear door has to be replaced. a shouting match ensued and the dumb shit driver and owner even resorted to physical actions on my bro. but since my bro is of similar physical disposition as myself the two fools were thrown off unceremoniously.
anyway my bro was mad about this incident and i too had numerous incidents with the patented driving skills of bangalore drivers and we started to express our opinions. and we reached an unanimous decision that we hate bangalore for its traffic and bangaloreans for their driving skills. i am not a person who can hate anything completely. bangalore is a city i had come to know, i do love it sometimes. even bangaloreans i like, after all i had experienced the rarest of the rare, two gentlemanly auto rickshaw drivers of bangalore!!!! but still it is a fact nevertheless.

i dont know if it is a phenomenon everywhere in india, but in kochi where i have many driving experience i have never met such blatantly ignorant and selfish drivers. in bangalore i have been angered by auto rickshaws and BTC buses which clog up the traffic by riding in the center lane at 15 KMPH. i have hated trucks which ride in outer ring road trying to overtake each other like one snail over taking another blocking the entire traffic.
i have felt like cursing at the drivers of TVS mopeds and dumbass cyclists who drive so stupidly through the middle of busy roads while blocking the entire roads, ignoring all traffic signals and rules and making life so hazardous for other travellers.

seriously i have never met such acutely traffic impaired drivers.

long time no see

2008-09-28T18:04:00.005+05:30

it has been a long time since i blogged here. one reason was that until 2 months ago my life was more stagnant than the mosquito drains of kochi and another reason was a well wished comment from a well wisher who dissuaded me from blogging.
perhaps i am really that exquisitely bad at this!!!

anyway now i am back with some more maturity(I hope!!) and a lot more experience to define my life with.

i am now in bangalore doing an interesting job in an interesting industry for about 2 months now. my being aware of an opening and my joining took just 3 days. i knew about the job on july 27 and by aug 1 i had joined.

my job is in construction sites where i have the opportunity to observe a variety of peoples. it is in sites like this that i see social ranking in action. in a site heirarchy is rigid. architects on top, consultants next, then engineers, then supervisors, then skilled workers and last unskilled labour.
i, being an engineer, and thus endowed the white hard hat am considered at the top of the food chain. it is pretty embarassing for a person like me. when ever i climb the stairs or come across laborers or security guards they all are immediately wary as if i am some sort of a Big Boss!!! i find it funny and very disconcerting. people who are as old as my father call me Sir and stand when i talk to them!!! and the most interesting thing is to see the seasoned pros in this industry who take all this as norm. i have interacted with consultants who consider anyone of lesser rank than a supervisor as scum!!!
some engineers and the consultants and architects who have long experiences and spend less time in field consider themselves so superior to the other people that it is galling.
to people like that i want to get 3 250 KG gas cylinders up 6 floors. i had to get such a work done. it was excruciatingly difficult. no service lift, no cranes, all materials lifted up six floors and i had to get such a cargo up. finally i had to beg and cajole a gang of 10 to get the job done and they did for 900 rs. after i gave them money they were so happy i was surprised!!! they all insisted on shaking my hand and i obliged. from then on whenever i encountered them on site they always greeted me with warm smiles.

seriously i want to ask those egoistic consultants how can they ever get a job done without such helpful people!! after all not always will money work!!!

Experiencing the garden city

2008-09-22T22:11:00.002+05:30

DISCLAIMER: this post should have come sooner but for some nasty internet flop ups. i am too lazy to edit it, so read it as it is. :D

indeed it has been a long time since i blogged. partly it was due to a well meaning discouragement i received from a "well wisher". partly because my life was going nowhere and there is nothing imaginative in stagnance.
but for the past one and a half months my life was seen tumultous change. from an unemployed bum now i am a working professional. i am gaining strides in self confidence and earning valuable experience.
bangalore is truly a remarkable place. not that i love this city in its entirety but it has its charm and wonders. some experiences of mine have really stunned me even in hindsight!!
for the first three weeks of work here, i referred to b'lore only as this friggin city. that was because i was a patron of BTC, namely Bangalore Transport Corporation, the infamous public bus system of Bangalore. The fact of my site and my place of residence being on opposite corners of b'lore did not help either. i had to commute in a minimum of 4 and a maximum of 10 buses everyday. the event i am going to describe happened on august 14, more famously known as Pakistan's Independence Day.
on that day i had boarded the regular bus to marathahalli from bellandur. naturally it was a re-enactment of wagon tragedy, filled with tired laborers on their commute home. getting inside the bus itself was a luxury and most had to adjust by having to hang from the windows. it was in this strenuous ride that it started to rain. i expected that such a turn of events would make people more uncomfortable and hence more unfriendly. but i saw and experienced something magical happening. the people who till then brooding silently started to crack jokes and the entire bus got a jovial mood. it were the people who were the most uncomfortable who were the loudest at laughing at and cracking jokes, me included.
finally i reached marathahalli in one piece and started the trek upwards to the bus station. the slope of the underpass created a river of mud flowing down. i waded up , already being drenched despite my insufficient rain jacket. the van ride and the subsequent bus ride are inconsequential except for the long wait which i had taken to be a frustrating norm and being drenched to the skin in which there is nothing remarkable at all. by the time i reached the shivaji nagar bus terminal i was drenched, cold and shivering. the station was crowded with people and empty of buses. swearing at all the people who directly or indirectly led me to this point of time, i went looking to catch an auto to get home.
the autos in bangalore, and on second thoughts everywhere are amazing examples of murphy's law in practice. when u dont want one u are heckled by them trying to lure u into a drive. but when u actually need them they either conveniently run out of fuel or in supreme arrogance they refuse the ride.
that was teh situation i found myself in. time was 0930PM and i had to leave the next day at 0300AM to go home. i asked many auto wallahs to give a ride. they refused. then i sought to bribe them going as much as rs. 200 for a rs.50 ride even at night. they refused. then finally i had to beg a person who had refused me twice already. i weaved a plaintive story liberally infused with my very real cold induced shivering and stammering. i also raised the loot to rs.250. thankfully he accepted to take me home. i got in expecting him to leave but was stunned when he started hoarding other passengers to share the ride. apparrently he thought all people would be as desperate or as crazy as me as all the people who approached him turned down the rate he offered. finally after yet another 15 minutes we started.
if i thought i would have a steady ride now, i was yet again mistaken. this guy, being a consummate businessman stopped everywhere 5+ people congregated trying to lure an extra rider. at that point i offered him rs.275 and 50 paise the entire contents of my purse.
to make matters worse the lighter which i always carried with me was missing i teh confusion and i could not light up the very wet cigarettes i had in my pocket. i asked him for a match and he said he had none. resigned for a nicotine deprive cold ride, i was surprised when the driver pulled to the side and went off to buy 2 cigarettes and a match box for me!!
only a smoker can understand how much gratitude such an act generates!!! in that instant when i took the first puff i forgave him for all the waiting and all the ignominy he forced me to experience.
and that too without being bidden!!! i asked for a light and i get two kings and light!!
i reached home that night at 1030.

gentlemen and pussies

2008-04-15T20:24:00.003+05:30

no.
i am not referring to the great interest displayed by men regarding that particular portion of feminine anatomy.

rather i am talking about gentlemen being generally compared to pussies, or people with significant absence of backbone, or any masculine coarseness.

the more prevalent notion of gentleman is the image of the victorian age european man , a metrosexual individual who had an equal interest in fine apparels and materials as do women of all ages. they too liked to adorn themselves in the best garments like silk, fur etc, they had as much penchant for cosmetics as do women. in fact their code of conduct would be condemned effeminate by most of us retro sexual males.

or in other words we call them pussies.

but are gentlemen really pussies? a gentleman is one of refined character and dignified personality. he converses splendidly, is highly articulate, chivalrous and a best example of civility.
pussies are vain, spineless variations of male gender who disdain physical labors and seem to display a paranoid revulsion to sunlight and all activities connected with vitamin D.

the reason i bring out this dichotomy is because due to a large number of pussies hiding under the garb of gentlemanliness, all gentlemanly attributes are considered to be pussy!!!

i seek to prove the contrary.

a gentleman is defined as " a gentleman is a person who knows precisely when to stop being a gentleman". this means a gentleman knows the precise limits to his courtesy and civil manners. a gentleman knows the correct time to shed his arts of diplomacy and launch a perfect punch better than the best of the bar room brawlers!!!

whereas a pussy will cry out when unduly intimidated, a gentleman stands his ground and when reaching the end of diplomacy and civility sheds his raiments of civilization and can fight in teh mud with the worst elements of society, and once hostilities terminated his gentlemanly conduct reveals faster than his skin colour under all the mud of the fight.

now you might be wondering why is this blithering fool bla blahing all about this gentleman stuff!!!

the reason is i see myself as a gentleman!!!

okay, now stop laughing (and rechecking what i just typed above), i am serious.
though i do disdain the vain raiments and garments attributed to gentlemen i seek to espouse the code of values that has defined gentlemen for ages. the codes espoused by the knights templar of renown, of the great samurai, of the great rajputs, the world conquering victorian britons, i seek to espouse that code of conduct.

in todays world these qualities are highly disadvantageous. when the wily and crooked rules the day, gentlemen are cornered. when the socialism and communism is at power and the coarseness and roughness of serfdom is glorified, the refinement of the erstwhile nobles are denounced. but it is precisely that nobleness in personality that i seek to espouse in my character. i do not though seek to emulate the racist characters of these upper!!!

my idol of gentleman is a fictional character of immense depth and magnificence. he is Dr. Hannibal Lecter MD. though i do not empathize with his cannibalistic tendencies the refinement of character, his gentile tastes in art and fine material, his immense intellect and mental powers, his astounding social grace and charm, yes the single greatest gentlemanly character, charm, these i admire a lot!!!

when i see the movies of hannibal fame, and when i read the trilogy, it is not the cannibal genius who strikes me, but the articulate gentleman that he is. even incarcerated in the baltimore mental hospital, he lives in his own mnemonic world of extra ordinary charm, grace and beauty. cohabiting the worst psychopaths imaginable he is an epitome of courtesy and charm to clarice and the inimitable barney!!!

now that is what i see myself to be!!! that is what i seek to be!!! a revelation??? a peek into future??? who knows?????

ha ha ha ha ha

dolphins, ships and palaces

2008-04-08T12:14:00.002+05:30

now, you must be wondering which brand of dope have i smoked today for creating such a senseless heading for a post that will surely prove to be senseless!!!

no, i am afraid i have to mash up ur brains again!!!

2 days back i had an extraordinary trip!!!
my father's niece suni and her husband hari and daughter kunji had come to kochi for a few days' hols. now hari chetan is an inspector general, one of the senior most police officers in kerala!!!! a very gem of a character with exemplary humility and tact!!!
the day they came i mentioned the operation of a ship plied by KTDC, kerala tourism development corporation, which goes into outer sea and after showing sunset to the passengers comes back to kochi!!!
after i had relayed the news to my parents and aunts, they had been very excited, so was suni chechi!!
the next day she called me up and said , get ready by 3pm. we are going for that sunset cruise!!!

i was thrilled.

we went in the official police ambassador car. i thought we must be going to the wharf near ernakulam high court but we drove on to fort kochi, the picturesque quarter of kochi city!!!
i was flabbergasted when the vehicle drove on to the coast guard station there!!!
there we were escorted to the commandant's guest room, a palatial luxury room with lots of cozy chairs, easy chairs and with an immense view of the back waters and the sea!!!
now this was an experience i would never have had as a measly civilian!!! no, it was teh IG's rank that secured us such a wonderful experience!!!

later we boarded a coast guard boat that took us to bolghatty palace, once a palace belonging to our family, but now a 5 star hotel run by the govt.
we passed teh ships in the harbor and i recognised two of three german naval ships that had come for a friendly port visit!!! i am proud that i recognized them from their unique serial number and the deutscheland flag that they adorned. going past we also saw the huge air defence ship of german navy!!!
bolghatty palace is usually out of bounds for ordinary mortals. but since we were with such a high powered person it was all royal treatment for us!!!
we had complimentary tea and coffee at one of their closed restaurants that had become haven for a squadron of flies. now this showed me the uniqueness of govt hotels!!!
later we went through some of the luxury suites and conference room that were in the original palace complex. i was sad to think that had my ancestors been wise, i would have been sleeping n one of these rooms with some of the best views i had ever seen!!!

later we boarded our boat and were on our way to the harbor mouth.
we passed pretty close the german big ship, close enough that the sailors waved back at us!!! they were very friendly sorts. then i spotted something that brought my heart to the base of my mouth!!! a heckler and koch mp5 submachine gun!!!! the magnificent machine was handled by a sailor who looked downright serious!!! it had a folding stock!!! i saw the stock first and then the barrel and lock!!!!! i never thought i would ever see an mp5!!!!!! it is one of my most favorite guns!!!

later as we approached teh harbor mouth we saw a family of dolphins swimming around!!! we were all excited, but none more than my niece kunji who is a dedicated follower of maneka gandhi, the dog kisser.
they were gray colored dolphins but i also spotted one which was golden brown in color!!! we didnt venture much further as the rolling of the boat was very uncomfortable to hari chetan who has vertigo!!!

we moved back into the harbor and waited as the sun slowly sunk into its depths, perhaps to hail good morning to inhabitants of washington dc????

then we berthed at the coast guard station and were back home in the uneventful leg of the day!!

bibliophile's woe

2008-03-22T12:32:00.002+05:30

books are great friends for morts like me,
they are the greatest listeners,
they offer good advice,
and they dont leave.

you hear me out when i am sad,
you wont tell me your own suffers,
you dont tease me when i am serious,
you dont ever hurt me.

you never sleep when i need you,
you are never too busy for me,
you dont ever get tired of me,
you are always there for me.

you respect me when i need some,
you dont taunt in strange company,
you belong only to me,
you are my best friend.

another "poem"

2008-03-22T12:25:00.002+05:30

this is another poem i wrote on a day my mother struck me for my poor marks.

words cannot spell the emotion in my heart,
rembrandt cannot give color to its flame,
etna is just a pop-lolly in par,
cos such is the anger beareth that i.

why is that i freaked upon this world,
why am i becoming the odd man at the end?
why is it that i am such perditioned,
why did you mother, bring me forth?

bless as you do with your love,
torture me you so with thy eyes,
thine words are like lava in heart,
a slap is thus therefore an intolerability.

you have not the hurt the physical of me,
i am built as the hardiest ox,
but unfathomed is the dent in my soul,
the instance you endeavored to strike me.

forgive me mater, i teared you,
curse me mother, i pained you,
smile mother , cos you win yet again,
thine goal is reached, thy son shall study,
but he hath morphed by you.

nein nom sonnet

2008-03-22T12:20:00.002+05:30

this is a "poem" i created during my early years at college. it is a literary rubbish but still i feel like sharing here.

Nein Nom Sonnet

what a person can do,
without the power of tongue,
in a world where sword is useless, pen a burden,
words are the sharpest weapons of man.

my sword is no less sharp,
my pen no less full,
but my tongue is empty for words.

assaulted by jabbing taunts,
i feel unnaturally vulnerable,
among gents of sharp wits and sharper remarks,
i am helplessly unarmed.

curse this wretchedness, curse this upkeep,
curse this absence of a sharp tongue,
i abhor my background,
which humbles me amongst my peers.

bleaky blankness

2008-03-18T21:54:00.002+05:30

days are going on sluggishly. hours are flying by with the speed of a sloth river.
today evening i at least embarked on a change of scenery.
i restuck my ambition chart in front of my computer desk.
this was a crazy chart which we had to make during our week long personality improvement camp conducted by the venerable thomman sir. the loony bugger told us to make the chart at the end of a full day of classes at 2 am!!! and we had to bloody well submit the well prepared chart by 6 am that morning itself!!!!

we hardly had 4 hours of break in between and we had to procure chart papers, collage materials and friggin ideas to create!!!

i never thought any of us could do it!!!! it was a bloody impossible task that was set to us!!!
but somehow we all did it!!!! my having a veritable library of india todays, frontlines, weeks, outlines and reader's digests around my messy room helped. also the lack of any glue was solved by the wide brown packing tape that i had!!!!
my collage was of a flow chart type .
it started off with abgraduation pic showing "from a successful graduation an odyssey begins". of course the words are mine but the pictures were somehow impressive!!! [ of course would i ever say otherwise?]
next arrow pointed to a man climbing a vertical rock face with my caption "no barrier too high for me".
next arrow pointed to a picture of asoka sthambha , india's seal where the caption was "in the nation's service, IPS". after all it is my stated career aim to be a civil servant.
the next arrow points to a picture of a lonely road from the perspective of a solitary driver, captioned "driving down lonely roads".
next picture is of a flame breather spitting out a cloud of flame in front of an enchanted audience!!! captioned "blazing thru obstacles".
next a picture of an arms seizure and a guy being walked around in guantanamo. being captioned "the great crackdown" and "satisfaction guarranteed" it displays my infinite hatred of terrorists plaguing india.

next is a trivial picture of a chap holding a illusory music system and with caption "njoyin da life!!!" at it.

finally there is the picture of my love and my craze,

a royal enfield bullet!!!

after all the prize has the least importance in the sequence of karma!!!!
i am a strong believer in the gita saying, karmanyeva adhikarasthe, maa faleshu kadaachana!!!!

i have had this chart with me for almost 2 years!!!! i first made it in my sixth semester. it survived my room shifting in final year and now fully 2 years later it is at my desk!!!!
how drastic life has changed in those 2 years!!!! i was a 5 back paper guy while studying in sixth semester. from then i consistently gained 8,7 and 6 back papers in my 6,7 and 8th semesters respectively!!!!

funny aint it?

my career seemed to go in such wild directions as merchant navy, networking job in IT industry and even call center industry!!!!

but my aspirations in the chart have never changed!!! IPS and the bullet bike!!!!
damn!!! i am getting serious, am i not?
bloody hell!!!!

i just hope the "graduation" thing could happen soon!!!!

buggered by the blogger's block

2008-03-16T19:43:00.002+05:30

it is been a long time since i posted anything here. i was suffering a prolonged moroseness and lack of ideas. my cranial cells had atrophied and my mind was in perpetual animation!!!

well , today i have decided to type and post at least some banalities.
i dont know whether i should post the reason for my moroseness as it is intensely personal and will be distasteful for myself to know that my inner emotions will be accessible to another person. but still i have to state some reason for my prolonged absence even if there is no one to whom i should report to.

the weather around here has been remarkable for past couple of days. lots of rain , rain falling down in tankers!!! 3 days back when i went to temple it was surreal!!! i had just spent almost 1.5 hours talking to my dearest of friends , helping that person alleviate their loneliness through long distance conversation. basking in that warmth i went to the temple and i found that the eastern sky was pine apple yellow in colour!!!! being a consummate connoisseur of the extracts of that delectable fruit i was thrilled!!! it was a childish pleasure for me to see my favorite juice splashed all over the setting sky!!! while i was making the pradakshinas inside the temple, i had a chance glimpse of the western sky, and lo behold!!! what do i see? a friggin rainbow!!!!

it had been a very long time since i had seen a rainbow!!! it was so beautiful!!! all the loveliest things and all the associated sadnesses assaulted me at that moment!!! finally savoring the cool breeze that evaporated all sweat off me , i walked back home!!!

i am sure you may have wondered how can this numskull have the memories of all the loveliest things and all the depressing sadnesses come to him at the same time!!!
well, when one particular feeling is cherished but not reciprocated then all the loveliness that remind us of that feeling turn out to draw us deeper into depression. when the very beauty of world that give the simple joys also remind us that our most cherished feelings are spurned mercilessly.
completely off the rockers, eh?
yeah, i myself have the feeling that i should have booked an appointment with nimhans while i was in bangalore. wasted opportunity!!! now those blokes will have to send an ambulance all over from there.

anti-styleism

2008-03-07T12:00:00.002+05:30

no , i have not mispronounced. no it may not figure in oxford dictionary- but does that mean the word is meaningless? even the word dingolfication is not there in oxford dictionary but it still doesn not remove the meaning of the word!!!

anti-styleism is the mantra or code of life for people like me who dislike to conform with any standards of style!!! i am the most uncomfortable around places and people who like to dress chic , stylish and fashionable. especially if i myself am dressed decently- shirt, jeans and shoes.

in those occasions nothing uplifts my spirit more than to see some one, preferably dressed in the most bohemian fashion possible.
2 days back i had been to the forum mall in bangalore with my sis in law and her cousin sister. now anyone who has ever been to bangalore knows that the forum is a heaven for stylish chic young people to ogle and be ogled. all sorts of style statements from the richest , stylest young people can be observed here. and one thing mostly common to these people are a disdain for anyone dressed simply or traditionally- a veritable symptom of "snobbism". these snobs think that one has to be dressed in chains, stylish watches, chained pants and such paraphernalia to be "cool" and anyone who dresses simply is an "uncouth country rustic".

one of my most favorite experiences had been once going to the kochi airport to pick somebody up with my cousin bro vijay. he too is an "anti-stylist" though maybe not as fanatical as me!!! we dressed in home t shirts and lungis!!! we drove up in the car and we were waiting for the cousin to be picked up. the large numbers of "desi foreigners" who were mostly dressed up to greet their relatives coming up from abroad. now these "stylish , smart" people were offended seeing such country people soiling the image of their style heaven!!! it was immense fun to see the snobby disdain !!! it felt like giving them one up!!!
bu hu ha ha haaa

it was the same feeling i felt when i went to the forum. how i would have enjoyed if i went there in a lungi!!!!! oooh, so fantastic!!!
when i got my job at spectrum i learned that there was no dress code. i also found that a lot of people were indeed very stylishly dressed. s while delivering my confirmation letter back signed i dressed up in my particular style. ordinary shirt, mundu (dhoti), sandals and a long umbrella!!! it was a great fun seeing the snobby looks from the "style gurus"!!!

i do hope that more people will start following this creed. perhaps i can even become a spiritual or philosophical guru!!! who knows i could have my own ashramas and franchisees in usa , europe and japan!!! who knows i could be a gazillionaire myself!!! ooh!!! how i get some inspirations!!!

wish and hope

2008-03-05T14:34:00.002+05:30

is a wish and a hope the same thing? i am not interested in the dictionary meanings and differenced of the two words- any policeman can do that.

but i had been thinking is there any fundamental differences between wishing and hoping for something?

do we wish for things that seem unreasonable and do we limit our hopes to things that sound reasonable? though the exact context which made me ponder these stuff is personal i can say that i found the futility of wishing when our wish is the most unreasonable.
people might wish they can fly like birds but they hope to fly in a plane!! i think that is the basic difference between the two stuffs. perhaps hope is a wish with a sprinkling of prudence and reason mixed with it.
i find myself wishing for some things that are not at all in my grasp of things. some matters can never be accomplished without mutual consent. we can only wish for reciprocation we can never hope for it. hoping for such things inevitably brings it to the realm of wishful thinking and we move to the realm of depression when the realities strike us full in face like a smash from muhammed ali. and it will be all the more painful because of the abruptness of the shattered illusion.
but when we know that what we desire is a wish rather than a hope we do not attach our lives to it in such a way that we are controlled by that desire. when i hope to be a civil servant, i desire that with a lot of realism and rationality and not wishful thinking. that object of hope is rationally attainable and though worth attaching our life to.
but when i wish to become the president of usa, let alone india that is a wishful, imaginative thinking.
i became really depressed when in the context the desire revealed itself to me as a mere wish rather than a hope. earlier when the same desire was a wish i deluded myself into believing that that wish was more than illusory and started hoping for it. i started living in a dreamland where all events and actions i translated into a role supporting of my false hope. and when the falseness of the wish was revealed i am crushed.
on contrary with my earlier posts i am not writing this in a happy frame of mind. in truth, i am really depressed and sad though my outward expression will not reveal it to people who observe me in real world. perhaps i am becoming successful at compartmentalizing my woes in order to not worry my fellow people. me being generally considered a jolly immature sort of chap that is the best face to reveal. after all why worry another being with the worries of myself???
right now consider even this post to be a drastic mistake . the reader who has often seen only the deranged portions of my cranium is exposed to the darker strains of my mind.
anyway no more of this stuff. by the time i swamp this blog with more lunatic aspects of my brain no one will notice this.
c ya latr

wispiness of dreams!!

2008-03-04T00:23:00.003+05:30

chavent we often woke up bright eyed in mornings with the memory of a wonderful dream fresh but somehow the details of the dreams eluding us? so frustrating , no?
i have had a few dreams that i have never been able to forget, a couple of vivid dreams extravagant in details and numerous in characters!!! but most of them were from my early childhood with one of my most memorable being a dream i had at my maternal ancestral house at nilambur. it was some sort of family get together and we, the platoon of kids used to lie down in a row of beds in the main hall and that same place was the setting for my dream!!!
near the window of the hall there is a a huge helicopter!! and it does not have regular doors- instead there are circular holes for people to slide in!! i , of course , am the pilot and my various cousins are the crew. it was a mechanical contraption with no regular engine to power the propeller blades!!! somehow my cousins succeed in cranking up the rotor and i lift the helicopter off the floor. it doesnt rise very high , though. perhaps about 3 feet!!! maybe it was at that time that i woke up!!!

this was the one dream that i have remembered for ever!!! i might have seen at the age of 6 or 7 max, but still the concepts are quite vivid in my mind!!! i dont know how or why this one dream is so memorable, cos by no means is it the one i enjoyed most or the most thrilling i had!!!

another dream i remember a lot consists of a thriller dream where i lead a commando assault on my nilambur home!!! there are tunneling involved and many other stunts, and though i dont remember their nature, the existence of stunts is very memorable!!!!

then there is my most frightening nightmare. this i had when i was in new delhi!! perhaps at age 4 or 5!! but still the blood chilling nature of the dream is vivid in my mind. it had me spinning in some sort of a spiral which is kinds endless, one spiral leading to another spiral with a sickly sort of soft music playing in the back ground!!! it was like being in a timeless black hole!!! never ending fright!!! no ghouls, no draculas or any of the traditional fright masters- just an endless falling in circles!!!! i have had this dream about 4 or 5 times and gradually i learned to wake up just when i start having the dream!!! it is so scary that even now i get scared of the concept.

if any shrink is reading this goop , take note, this point may help you in confirming my appointment in a lunatic asylum!!!

but what really saddens me is that i have forgotten so many great dreams all so consciously!!! there are of course dreams that are completely in the unconscious realm of mind. but there are some in the sub conscious realm of regular sleep that are quite fleetingly conscious to us when we are awake!!! and they are the most imaginative, thrilling and exciting dreams i ever had!!!! the sort of craziness i have experienced in those dreams will make even the demented reader blush!!! but the frustrating part is the acute lack of detail!!! the inability to revisualise that stunning hottie, that amazing location, that super cool stunt i did, the amazing adventures, basically the sort of things the memory and visualization of which makes the day for a committed sloth and day dreamer like me!!! but the more i try to "remember" the details more i tend to forget, but the feel of the dream does linger for a very long time. the basic emotion of the dream be it, happiness, adventure, romance or anything does persist well into the morning the time around noon when i find myself fully awake!!! and they are even greater when i wake up comparatively early, ie, around 8am!!!
the fleeting memory of those early morning wispy dreams give me the energy and guidance for the day's activities and moods.
profound???? i am i truly going nuts??? who cares???!!!

from queen of arabian sea to garden city

2008-03-03T12:34:00.003+05:30

i had a very exciting journey which started on saturday 1st mar which culminated yesterday at 6 pm.
though it was the para festival at our temple this was a journey i had much looked out for. i was travelling with my cousin brother vinay and sister-in-law harsha, aka edathiyamma. the day started wonderfully . bright sunny morning, and a rare thing happened too!!! i woke up before 8am IST!!!
and to make matters even more joyous, i woke up and bathed just in time to watch the lord crossing the river in the boat, one of the most beautiful sights around. but unfortunately as i was watching the crossing i had an unexpected spraining of neck that was horribly painful. i also had a series of errands to run before the departure.and like a mole atop a hump my toe was cut by my scooter's stand.
finally after a patching up i left on the journey with my bro in his wagon r car at around 11 am. we left via trichur to coimbatore via nh 47. the roads were far better than i anticipated although the existence of gutters in large numbers did save the trip from being "too" comfortable. and the fact that vinay considered himself to be an amateur rally driver did make the trip extremely hair raising!!!
we had lunch at the indian coffee house at mannuthi agricultural college. contrary to the standards of indian coffee houses in india the food at this joint was deplorable at best. maybe that is why indian coffee house is a dying brand name nowadays.
we crossed into the state of tamil nadu via the walayar check post and the amazing line of trucks waiting to cross over into kerala amazed me!!!! the line was almost 4 kms long. it drove the point home that every thing we keralites consume has to be trucked in from other states!!! a total consumer and the ultimate market economy. it also gave me a career aim to be a police or customs officer here!! service here for a month could set me up for a lifetime of luxury!!!!

the crossing over into tamil nadu territory was a breath taking experience. it seemed like all greenery too ceased existence beyond the border. while it was all lush green with lots of grass and trees at the kerala side, yonder it was all barren brown terrain.
the roads too took a turn for the worse and potholes becoming a norm and firm tarmac a rarity. finally around dusk we reached the home of vinay's in- laws. it was a breezy , cute apartment that was quite charming.
next day we were on our final leg to bangalore, the IT centre and garden city, which in a few years will be recognizable by the name "bengaluru". god help that city then!!!
the trip which was supposed to start at 8 finally took off at 11. we travelled in the sathymangalam, kollegal route.
what started out to be a pleasant drive through lush forests and winding hair pin turns at the sathyamangalam pass, a tricky route with 29 hair pin curves, finally took an boring and exasperating turn. from the forests once dominated by the notorious and legendary forest brigand veerappan we got trapped in the horrendous road system of karnataka. what normally takes 2 hours of driving in decently paved roads took us an exasperating 5 hours through the worst roads we had ever seen!!! these roads which apparently has not seen asphalt ever since british left the country 60 years ago are only motored by bullock carts and all terrain tractors. due to the prevalent practices of drying food grains on the road surface, the absence of tarmac has even caused some sections of the road to have flourishing flora growing on them!!! it was a sea change from the comparatively magnificent roads of kerala and the decently paved roads of tamil nadu. i almost felt nostalgic about kerala roads which normally i will start cursing every 93 minutes!!!!

finally i reached bangalore at about 6 pm, a complete wreck!!!! my neck and left shoulders were screaming!!!! even liberal doses of pain easing sprays did no good to the torment. finally after and excruciatingly cold bath and a sumptuous dinner, i embraced lady sleep.

thus i reached the garden city!!!!!!

war and aggressiveness

2008-02-27T20:55:00.003+05:30

i have often heard people dreaming and clamoring for a world where there is no more wars!!! how ideal thoughts!!! what valiant dreams!!!! but i am saddened to realize that these pacifists are unrealistic fools!!!!

when you dream dream of something that is possible. you can dream of flying, and you can fly too, but you must be travelling on an aircraft to do that. if you want to fly without an aircraft you can always jump off a cliff or a particularly tall building, actually i would quite advice that to these unrealistic dreamers!!!!

these people who call for an end to wars do not understand why wars occur in the first place. true, politics and greed is the most visible culprit. but there is something deeper, an inherent characteristic in human beings that leads us inevitably to war.

aggressiveness.

this simple characteristic has been the driving force behind human species prevalent dominance in the planet. had this latent aggression not been there, we would never have dared to challenge nature, challenge our intellects, challenge our various obstacles.

it is the same aggression that drives an athlete towards that final lap , which also drives monarchs and generals to keep fighting wars.

the first use of aggression and war was in early days of human civilization when man began settling down and cultivate food. he had to wage a continuous war against nature and its predators. the first weapons were developed against these natural predators. had man not been aggressive he would have submitted meekly to being ravaged by the forces of nature and civilization would not have progressed.
now it was the same aggression that drove entrepreneur farmers to increase their arable land and this quest in increasing land gave rise to border system. where there was borders there naturally the aggression in man caused one to try and over come the border of the other. and the first war between men was fought.

in its essence modern war does not differ in anyway from the early conflicts and fist fights between neighboring farmers. question of greed that is driven by aggression.

now should we vilify this aggression?
think about it again!!!
if this aggression was not there, would man have tamed the continents, the deepest oceans, the tallest mountains and the farthest reaches of space?
aggression gives the passion that most often overtakes reason.
reason will not allow the wright brothers to attempt flight. it would be too risky and stupid of them if they thought rationally!!!
reason would not have allowed edmund hillary to conquer mt. everest. it was sheer passion driven by aggression which overcame all rationale and reason that said it was suicidal to attempt to scale that edifice!!!

it was same passion driven by aggression that led to napoleon and hitler to launch their wars against all reason. the same aggression also led nelson and stalin to defend those wars!!!

now what is the basic difference between hitler and hillary? both were driven by aggressive passion.
the difference is their intent.

what hillary aimed was noble and what hitler intended was evil.
would world have been a better place if both hitler and hillary were neutered of their aggression like some people do to dogs?
perhaps it would have worked in the case of hitler, but we would have lost an adventurous pioneer if hillary's aggression was neutered.

now is there anyway to decide whose aims are good and whose is bad? and can such determination be done efficiently and always? in a free society it is very difficult to find out a person's character. perhaps in a futuristic society where people can be better profiled it will be an option but then society will no longer be free and no more pure innovation will occur.

that is why i categorically believe that no matter how stable world is, wars are inevitable. human nature demands it.

what is in a name?

2008-02-23T20:33:00.001+05:30

i guess many of you wonder "why the hell did this guy use such a strange name?"

perhaps you may also consider it to be yet another manifestation of my deranged self and the word being yet another gobbledygook i produced, perhaps when i was being administered shock therapy!!!

possible, but not quite.

horemheb http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horemheb was the last king of the ancient egypt's 18th dynasty. people who are slightly interested in metaphysics and esoteric mystery stories may know his more famous predecessor, tutankhamen aka tutankhaton aka King Tut in popular lore.
horemheb was the military general and mentor of the boy king tut and the appointed successor to the throne of egypt.
he was an exemplary diplomat and army general. some say king tut was assassinated by horemheb but that is unlikely as the immediate successor was another general named ay who tried hard to get rid of horemheb. but after 4 years horemheb, in a move i adore, struck and killed off ay and his designated successor and became the pharaoh of all egypt!!!

he became a legendary ruler restrengthening a much weakened egypt that had seen unhealthy over centralization, corrupt religious revolution and a much more corrupted religious priestdom under King Tut's uncle akhenaton whose consort was the legendary beauty nefertiti!!!!!

under horemheb egypt became stronger and richer.

so this is why i chose the name horemheb as my alter ego!!!!

after all who better than a man vilified by all historians for crimes he never committed but was a better king and ruler than his more legendary counter parts!!!!

the name first struck my mind about 11 years earlier when i read a book on egyptian history at my uncle's house in trivandrum. the uncle being a renowned scientist was a more benign and charming character then and the collection of books he had was absolutely impressive!!!!

and of course the very strangeness and nature of the name captivated me!!!!

so this is the genesis of the name "HOREMHEB".

a surreal experience!!!!

2008-02-22T14:16:00.000+05:30

yesterday i had been to a place that was quite surreal and charming!!! i fell in love with that place after a single visit.

the place is the koodalmanikyam temple in irinjalakuda , a town about 20 km away from trichur, the cultural capital of kerala.

the journey was with the parents of a very dear friend of mine in their maruti 800, a car totally unsuitable for a person of my girth. my mother too was there.
the journey started in an uncomfortable fashion with me having to fit myself into the cramped seat of the smallest indian car this side of tata nano!!!. after searching for the adjusting lever in that awkward position i finally got myself into a posture somewhat resembling comfort and we were on the way.
the journey was unremarkable but the destination was anything but!!!! the town of IJk (short form and transport bus code for irinjalakuda) is quite active but the temple part of the town is a very sleepy , quiet area. with lots of old palaces of the erstwhile royal families the temple of koodalmanikyam (KDM in short, as i am too lazy to type it every time) is the center of life around the place.
the house where we were staying was a cute, little house which almost shared the walls with the temple. with lush greenery all around, a nice mango tree with bunches of ripe juicy mangoes greeted us at the gate. while unloading i was thankfully not much in pain due to cramps. but the uncle soon got into trouble when he locked the car with the keys inside!!!
the situation was indeed funny, but he being an amateur jack of all trades soon produced a wire to open the door. it was an eduactional experience for me learning how to open a car door without a key!!! if in the future i am rendered unemployable, i can still look forward to one viable means of employment, albeit risky with a huge potential to enjoy government funded hospitality!!!
the aunt showed me around the house and the next thing that made me very excited was the pond in their house!!!!
it was a small pond, but still filled with crystal clear water!!! it was inviting me to take a leap. but i had to maintain my outward prudence.
after a nice bath i went to the temple.
the temple blew my mind off!!!!
it was so huge!!!! so beautiful!!!! so calm and so quiet!!!! and there was a huge temple pond to its northern side. the temple which is a square complex of 190 metres side (courtesy google earth) is devoted to bharata , the melancholy brother of lord rama. due to the melancholy nature of its deity many normal traditions of kerala temples are not followed here, like flower offerings (pushpanjali), lamp ceremony(deepaaraadhana). the temple is obviously quite ancient as we can find out from some of the wall murals inside the temple. one particular mural quite captivated me, though i dont know the theme, the colour combination and drawing style was peculiar!!! it was made in the ancient style using natural colours like crushed leaves for green etc!!!! and it was quite vivid in the details too!!!
getting out of the inner shrine, there is a huge lamp post around which is entwined the chains used for one of the legendary temple elephants of the old times. the chain of kavalapaara komban , a regal pachyderm that lived more than 100 years ago would have crushed any of the measly temple elephants of today. the huge chain is made of links whose steel is thicker than my thumb!!!!!!
then taking the pradakshina, or temple round i walked around the koothambalam- a place where traditional art forms are usually performed. koothambalams are the ultimate examples of the genius of traditional kerala architecture. its immense beauty is surpassed by its astonishing architectural and geometric features!!!! well being no expert at architectural sciences i can but admire the sheer beauty of the structure.
later i had a walk in the cool dusk. surrounded by lush greenery it was the sort of paradise that a city dweller like me loved!!! i spent nearly one hour sitting on a mile stone by the empty road and wide paddy field enjoying the absolute tranquility of the place. i also talked with some friends whom i hadn't been able to contact for a very long time. the absolute beauty of the place and the time awakened all the joy in my heart.
i returned only by the time it became dark and even though it was a rural area thr were enough street lights to make the walk trouble free.
later after dinner i again went out for a walk. there was a performance of kathakali one of the most venerated of traditional kerala art forms outside the temple. listening to the great music , rhythmic drums and thump of orchestrated feet i walked around the temple for a long time, reminiscing about life and various other things. it was quite surreal. with a shining moon overhead, clear skies, a cool breeze and being absolutely alone in the enormous temple it was a surreal experience!!! it was as if destiny brought me to this place to give me such pleasure!!! i was on top of the world!!!!
it was beautiful.
still later , when i retired to the house i went to the terrace of the house and was greeted by yet another astonishing sight!!! the immense spread of the temple and the equally huge temple pond , all adorned with glittering moonlight. for a better part of an hour i sat there admiring the spectacular beauty of the place while chatting with a very close sister of mine. the refreshing conversation mixed with the beauty of the place was a heady feeling indeed.

any more words spent in describing the subsequent sleep and return journey home will be a injustice to a tribute to such an amazing experience!!!

designing a tower home!!!!

2008-02-13T20:33:00.000+05:30

as i warned you earlier i am putting my design for a tower home here. this was a brain wave i received while reviving from a ticket examination in a train journey!!!

so here i go
the first pic shows the floor description and tower basic design
levels start from bottom up
basement- it will have the electrical equipments, like batteries, solar power converters and ac/dc conversion devices., along with a fully equipped workshop for various works. the crane trolley will be stored in the basement until required for the crane operation.
level-1--entrance, guest room, work area, drawing room
level2- dining room
level3- kitchen
level4- bedroom (2 nos)
level5- rest room
level6- master bed room
level7-library and computer room
level8- accessories, lift motor and crane equipment, antennas.
now i am giving a description of all the floors from basement upwards.

basement

the circle shows the foundation outline of the tower structure. tower shall be constructed of six concrete pillars which are interconnected in a hexagonal and kinda benzene type structure. the pillars are covered with masonry in the super structure but in the basement they will be revealed as pillars. the inverted "u" shape at the bottom of the circle is the cage lift whose motor is at the level8 . at the right side there is the stair well to the level-1 ground floor.

level-1 = ground floor
the bottom room is the drawing room to ward off unwanted or frail type of visitors who might get scared of the tower.then the lift doors face us and to the left of it the stair start as well. stairs is a spiral super structure hugging and it takes 2 floors to complete one revolution. to the left of the tower we have the guest bed room and one attached bathroom. to the right of the tower we have the work area with access to the basement workshop. along the very center line of the tower u can see a smaaaaaall circle . that denotes a stainless steel or special plastic pole with a high elastic bean bag at the bottom that will be at least 4 feet deep with slanting edges. the pole is as an added safety measure. in emergencies any body in any floor can escape easily by only clinging on to the pole thru which they can slide down and touch teh bean bag safely and teh added momentum carries them out of the house very fast. idea is from batman movies and fire fighter stations. cool, eh?

level-2= dining room
the dining room does not have any specially remarkable features, it will be like most other dining rooms. i did not decide upon the type of table but i think it will be some sort of curved table.

level-3= kitchen
kitchen also there would be nothing very remarkable. just an ordinary kitchen.

level-4=bedroom (2 nos)now here in this floor there will be two bed rooms. as we can see the lift open up at the bottom end and the stairs come via the upper right area there will be a corridor joining them and withing the corridor will be a big bathroom . it will be a common bath room for the two bed rooms. bed rooms will have caged windows to prevent any fatalities.

level-5=rest roomrest room is where general entertainment and relaxation is meant to take place. there will be a home theater and a computer for kids. there will also be a dvd library and surround sound system.
level-6=master bed room
master bed room shall be a huge bed room with a magnificent view.

level-7= library
now this is my favorite floor!!!! there would be wall to wall books in continuous shelves. there will be some big plump black leather couches. there will also be a concealed tv. in the bottom right corner there will be my computer room with all my accessories. the library will also have a mini bar for "cool drinks".
level-8= top floor
the top floor is where the motor for driving the lift and the main water tank is located. there will be a telescope with mounted on automated railings. this floor will also house the components of the retractable crane for exterior works. the walls in this floor will be made entirely of transparent plexiglass except for where telescope needs it view points.

so this is the idea for a tower house that hit me.
wht do u think?

illusion of perfection

2008-02-12T22:41:00.000+05:30

we all say " i am going to have a perfect job", a "perfect family life", "perfect holiday" so on.
but what is perfection?
perfection is when something that we have planned go along completely according to the plan or when we achieve a state where all our desires are satisfied 100%.

in short perfection means 100%.

but is there such a thing as 100%?
will there be any fun if things we do turn out to be perfect? when we plan to do some thing and the result is achieved perfectly, we learn absolutely nothing from it. we become mere assemblers of a design rather than synthesizing something interesting.
whenever we do something unexpected obstacles come up, causing our cranium to get hyper active. and it is in those charged moments that mankind's greatest ideas bear fruit, right? so will there be any fun in anything we do if there is no randomness or aberrations?
consider travelling. u board a bus to go from kochi to bangalore. in a perfect travel, u board the bus, watch some lousy movie, fit yourselves into some cramped seats and sleep till u reach bangalore. absolute drivel if you ask me. now consider suddenly in the midst of nowhere there is some tire puncture or some other obstacle. wont life be suddenly interesting. sure it will be scary to some and irksome to many but i believe those are the real moments of life when u learn a lot. it is when unforeseen incidents happen that we are at our most active. talents, strengths and emotions u never knew u had exhibits itself during these moments.
let me show another example, when our teacher tells us we have an exam tomorrow, 55% of us dont study as that is yet another part of the murderous academic schedule. but what if when we attend yet another comatose lecture the lecturer suddenly announce a surprise test unbelievable energies animate our erstwhile lifeless bodies into sudden actions of procuring paper and for some like me, pen or pencil. and we even do better than when the test is pre announced.

i am proud to say that on occasions like these the back seat brigands like me who regularly flunk regular tests do far better than the established brainy front seat bastards. apparently surprises like these are unwarranted aberrations for those perfectionists and we the aberrants thrive on aberrations!!!

and i do wish to make a point that it is aberrants like me, who really make up the world. consider isaac newton who postulated the field of mechanics and the story of how his cerebral neurons were triggered by the impact of a falling apple. the Aberrants Society believe that it was not an apple but a projectile black board duster that hit the hibernating genius and gave him the necessary stimulus.
and what about alfred einstein, he was never a person who walked the beaten path. he was a characteristic aberrant.
michelangelo another aberrant created some of the most magnificent works of art we have seen.
almost all innovations and discoveries have been the product of aberrations, albeit serendipitous . if perfection was the way forward human civilization would have stagnated and never have advanced.
and even when we see that something is perfect it shall never be. the natural entropy will have created some aberrations that will render it its peculiar charm.
consider the leaning tower of pisa. had it not been leaning it would have been yet another church tower in a land of a million churches.

so should we not strive for perfection? i say we definitely should. unless we decide to strive for perfection there wont be any avenues for development. but we should see perfection for what it is - an idealism. a utopian idealism and nothing more.
just like good people live good life so that they go to a non existent heaven and thus live a a heavenly life here on earth.

in short you cannot enjoy the sights unless you start on a journey with a definite destination.

a philosophy on life

2008-02-12T21:31:00.000+05:30

this is copied from some page i visited. but it sounded very sane to me.

A philosophy on life

The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it?

A death. What's that, a bonus ? I think the life cycle is all backwards.

You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work.

You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement.

You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities.

You become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating... you finish off as an orgasm.

It's perfect !

another day of travels- back home

2008-02-11T23:49:00.001+05:30

today was my sojourn back home. after a tasty breakfast of puttu and kadala , that very best of malayali cuisine i was on my way home. the bus journey to the railway station at angadipuram was not as gruesome as the earlier day, perhaps it was because i was all the more fresher and energetic now. but mr. lalu's enterprise was to play havoc with my dream of getting home soon. there was some indefinite delay of trains due to some track work.
then something interesting happened!!! a railway track repair vehicle was in the process of being shunted to a side track. this was one of those non- automated machines which was primarily dependant on human muscles and sinew to get the work done. it was pulled by a true antique of an engine. as it was being shunted there were some weird noises and then suddenly a huge iron rail leaped off the train onto the track. a railway man was at that precise stop just seconds earlier and if he hadn't moved from that spot some 1o seconds earlier my day would have started on a gruesome note- of having to see a man cut into two!!!!. but all was well. but not so for a concrete slab that was in the path of the thundering rail. it split into two and a portion fell about 3 ft away. now i watched the enterprising muscle men of railway gang , gang up and lever the rail using crow bars and excellent synchronism.
as a person with absolutely nothing to do except stand under a relentless sun it was a worthwhile sight. finally the train came up and i left for the main junction. on return leg to ernakulam i had to board a reservation compartment and the tc was cordial enough to upgrade my ticket for only rs. 50 extra. i was basking in that gratitude when a call came up. it was a quirky friend of mine who is also the self proclaimed ambassador of mars in india. usually we say men are from mars and women from venus but in the case of this enterprising amazon an exception can be made.

she was on her usual exuberance and was gushing out some words that sounded like "class.....bomb.... home.... train.... police" i had no idea what to make out, as is usually the case with her. finally she calmed down and told that there was a bomb alert in her college and all students were evacuated and she was on her way home. i was concerned. she is also one of my greatest friends and a little sister, but any harm to a martian will lead to drastic after effects for us hapless earthlings.
anyway she reached home safe and the scare turned out to be a hoax. after all which stupid terrorist would ever bomb an institution such as hers that turn out so many crazy students!!! if one can judge an institution by the sanity of one of its wards i get scared when i think abt some hundred of such students let out into indian streets when they are so excited!!! it would have been just like planting a bomb at NIMHANS.
as i was nearing my destination the genial TC came up and dropped his bombshell!!! i will have to disembark at a station before my city as otherwise i will have to pay an extra rs.130. having my resources dwindles already to rs.180 i had no choice. and hence my last bus trip of the day started from aluva to tripunithura.
an afternoon bus ride from aluva to tripunithura through ernakulam city (menaka route) especially when the weather is hot and humid and one is dying of thirst, a journey of 2 hours and th worst pollution in kerala, is indeed a breath taking experience!!!!!!!!

somehow i reached my home and lay down.

mostly i am a person who loves travelling and this trip came to a hair breadth of me losing that charm. but as i see it, the more hardships in the journey , the more exciting it is!!!! after all any experience can be seen as good or bad depending on the attitude with which we face it!!

anyway now it is time for me to edit my scanned designs of the tower i wrote abt earlier.
let me prepare ground for the next post which will be even more unreadable as any of these posts.
c ya!!

aim of life- what is it?

2008-02-10T21:33:00.002+05:30

a stupid question, right? yeah i know it is a stupid question and since the questioner is a stupid (me) there is no problem.
every person when asked about the purpose of life or the aim of his life tells "happiness" as a mantra to show that he is not like all those shallow people who say "money" "fame" "get hit by rolls royce phantom" etc etc.
but what i want to know is, what exactly is happiness? is it a momentary burst of ecstasy or a prolonged bout of elation? if we define happiness by these terms is it possible?

at times we seek and covet certain things and achievements. we feel that we will be happy when we get it. will we be?

NOTE: snazzed , sorry for the open plagiarism!!!!!

for example, when i wanted to buy an air rifle i was so passionate in my belief that i will be happy if i had it. but the actual obtaining of the gun and the subsequent shootings had been an anti-climax. the expected ecstasy will be absent and it may lead to our being deflated a lot.
similarly for a lot of instances when we anticipate the happiness due to something happening, when the something really happens the happiness may be too disappointing. it is like u expect trumpets , drums and showers of gold from the skies, when in actuality all we get a bloody honk from a passing car, and some lousy wind from under powered fan.
maybe we anticipate too much. we should always do anything being pessimistic about the results so that whenever anything good happens we shall be happy. indeed being happy is a mode of life but not the aim of life.
i think the aim of life is self satisfaction. just like end product of anything achieved is not happiness but even more self satisfaction. when u desire a bike for long and u try hard for it, the moment u finally lay hand on one as an owner it is indeed a joy par compare, but even more is the satisfaction of a victory well won, a sacrifice well made, a hard work well done.

as long as there is no self satisfaction will there be any happiness? a person can satisfy all his whims through dishonest ways being dishonest with himself more than others. he may enjoy all the pleasures he dreamed about, he may experience ecstasies unimaginable to rest of the people. but at the end of the day will he have self satisfaction? will he able to pat himself on his back and say " well done , old man"?
i believe , NO, but i may be wrong. after all, unfortunately i dont know any obscenely rich people , how much ever i may want to befriend them. so again my expoundings may be another form of jealousy.

that is why responding to a recent suggestion by an exceptional friend of mine about my gazillion dollar dream i said " perception of the thing is more satisfying for me than having the real thing itself". after all there is such a thing as enjoying utopia!!! after all if i had a mansion in malibu, an island in andaman, or a red hot rolls royce i will be more worried about the taxes and spares and maintenance of the confounded thing than be happy of being in possession of the thing itself. but when i dream myself as owning them i can edit out any unnecessary baggages but retaining the absolute joy of having them.
being a devotee of the matrix genre i am of the belief that "dreams need not be unreal"
so according to me purpose of life is self satisfaction.
now if some sage has/had a better idea please let me know. and please casticize me if i am wrong( but bear in mind that i am of a bearish countenance, huge and large, before commenting unfavorably).

a day of travels........

2008-02-10T09:08:00.000+05:30

today i embarked on a two day trip to manjeri and nilambur, former is where my maternal uncle lives and latter is the maternal native place and where the temple of family deity is situated.

i woke up at 0500 using my mobile alarm quite easily enough because the reason i am waking up is to travel and not to study anything. i got ready and left home around 0545. i caught a private bus to reach the railway station. at this early in the morning wind was quite chilly and i dearly wished i had brought some cap or something to ward off the cold air now attacking my exposed ears with earnest, almost always a prelude to a nasty bout of cold. the queue at railway station was quite long and from snippets of conversation i over heard from fellow travelers i could make out that rush was even denser at the other ticket terminals. i really doubted if i could get a seat today. anyway thankfully i was on route being seated too!!! maybe i was the last person who got a free seat in that entire train before it started to lumber off. it was a pretty nice journey and slowly i became fading in and out of sleep. i was woken up to answer the ticket collector's call for producing tickets to be examined. now this also gave me a brain wave!!!
after due formalities with the official i began fermenting the idea i had!! design a tower home!!!
a 7-8 storeyed tower which will be an excellent home. i made a vague mental list of various floors and the function it would serve. but more importantly i had to decide on what type of lift and stairs and escape mechanisms i had to install as that would be vital in a construction of this sort. i thought about ballast driven lifts, hydraulic lifts, even tracked lifts. finally i decided upon a cage lift driven by an electric motor at the top of the shaft.
i also designed a stair mechanism such that it will take the minimum space, it shall go around the curvature of the tower so that no inner space will be utilized. then the escape mechanism. for that the best thing, i decided, would be the sort of poles used in fire stations and by batman in his lair.
anyway more on that later when i will upload the design pictures on this blog.
now onwards with my travels. after some more time in the train the emptiness of my stomach became quite excruciating for me. i did not want any of the dubious pooris or dosas they vended out. but i did buy a pack of 2 bread slices and an omelett which cost me 22 rs!!!! i would say that was daylight robbery in all its dastardliness!!!!
anyway it did appease my gastric system a bit.
while waiting for my onward train at the shornur junction station i witnessed a remarkable sight. it was breakfast time and three long distance trains had just pulled up with a veritable host of hungry passengers that needed vending to. so now this army of railway vendors were thronging this counter were they distributing vada , dosa and chutney. the entire sight was a mouth watering experience for a dedicated vada connoisseur like me. much though i was tempted to savor those rich, warm and crunchy vadas with dollops of those exquisite looking chutneys, i was turned off because of an accompanying swarm of house flies who were quite as great connoisseurs of culinary magnificences as myself if not as self controlled. seeing those little rascals dig into the treasure trove of vadas did take my appetite a bit, but not being a person to be disgusted by such sights, after all i did live on hostel food for 4 years, i finally decided to walk away heeding the voice of my inner self control and dietary attempt, " gokul, lay off!! u just had two cold slices of measly bread and one really louse omelett. you do not have to eat those exquisite vadas. after all they are fried in oil!!!"

now do u see how pathetic a loser i turned out to be.
anyway withing a short while the train came, i embarked and put my tower designs to paper, designs which i will torment u readers with in a day or so.
the journey in the shornur -nilambur route has always exhilirated me. this is a single lane route. only one train operates here. the scenery is breathtaking, the green fields, the awesome hills and a veritable mosaic of colours of a quintessential malappuram countryside. finally i disembarked at my angadipuram destination and caught a bus for manjeri for a 40minute back breaking ride in the regular small size seats of the private buses plying here.
finally i reached my uncle's house at noon. well that was the synopsis of today's travels but not the travails. evening i went with my cousin to watch a movie by suresh gopi, named "osund of boot" an exhilirating detective story with a great message conveyed.
and that is the end of the day's travels and travails.
more of the log tomorrow.

value of life

2008-02-08T12:18:00.001+05:30

what is the value of life? how does one measure the value of life? is it valued according to any commercial parameter? is this amount of knowledge one has? is this the number of accomplishments one has? is it one's age? and finally is it one's species?

today while driving down a road i saw a stray puppy in the middle of the road. a geriatric was driving his maruti car straight at the puppy. i stopped my scooter and honked to scare the puppy away. thankfully any fatalities was avoided. that got me thinking. is a puppy's life any less valuable than a human being's life? after all it is still a life form!!!
now if it was a human child the geriatric might have been more careful. right?
as i got thinking i started reviewing the thread of human thought. whenever accidents occur with a number of human fatalities the reporting is often like this, x number of people were killed of whom y were women and z were children. no mention of men. perhaps they expect the reader to do the math to find the number of dead men. but often it is injuries to women and children that are given predominance over mishaps with men. why? is it because their lives are more important? or is it because society considers protection of women and children, the "weaker" section as its primary duty? is it genuine consideration or a mutated form of male chauvinism?

some years back there was a bus accident where lot of women sitting in their designated front side of the bus were killed. days later govt issued a new order that ladies' seats were to be at the back. so position occupied by ladies can be occupied by men, so that men can die more easily?

everyday a lot of people die and it is most often women's tragedies that get attention.

now coming to puppy case, according to budhism a person can go through many cycles of birth as various life forms, as an ant, a dog, a fish, a tiger anything basically. now that may be a quirky idea, but it still calls for a greater understanding for the value of life. this blog is not a statement but a listing of my various doubts. i mean, seriously how can we know the value of life?
or is there something as such.
thinking abt it when we smack off those dastardly mosquitoes do we consider that they are as alive as our pets, or even us? after all a life is still a life , ryt?
so basically i think we are all nepotic in giving more important to human species than to other species.

now i am starting to sound like maneka gandhi. dont worry i shall be a human nepotic to the end. and i do enjoy smacking off those mosquitoes especially when they drone in my ears when i am half asleep on warm days when kseb shuts down power at 2 am!!!!

gazillion dollar dream #1

2008-02-05T21:17:00.000+05:30

i have a regular madness.
when i am utterly bored i start what i call the gazillion dollar dream. i imagine myself getting an almost infinite amount of money in an account, and then imagine how will i start spending from the next minute onwards. the pattern varies at different times.
this is one such example i cooked up yesterday.

"first transfer about 50 lakhs to my fed bank account. withdraw rs. 10 lakhs in cash from fed bank. hire a taxi, preferably an indica and go to ekm airtel office. recharge my mobile for rs.2000. go to online it shoppe and get myself a sony vaio laptop. also buy an airtel internet card for laptop. get a reliance card also.
go to mahindra showroom and order a luxury scorpio. go to toyota showroom and buy an innova. get an inbuilt tv and dvd player in it.
open up accounts at sbi and hsbc banks. deposit rs. 1 crore each in them. arrange for international visa cards.
clear the lic loans. clear the canara bank education loan.
order a brand new mercedes s class and a bmw coupe.
contact a real good real estate firm and buy a plot near le meridien. buy about 50 acres of land in kakkanad. buy up my ancestral home at nilambur.
buy a high rise apartment in kochi city with full view of naval base, port and taj malabar.
also buy up a large estate near gudalore.
get an apartment at bangalore, mumbai and delhi.
order a bombardier global xrs.
at the le meridien site build a medium sized villa, with an attached boat yard and an attached underground garage. get an exclusive high speed (100 mbps or gbps) net connection for the home. also get a satellite dish able to connect to any tv channel in the world. get myself a servo power computer with 2 x quad core, 5 gb ram, 50 tb hdd, wifi , wimax routers and a 18" and a 50 " monitor with 1 gb graphics card. get google earth pro. also get subscribed to jane's and all major satellite imagery websites.
buy myself a speedboat and a motorized yacht. moor the speedboat at the kundanoor home and the yacht at taj malabar and later at the marina. order a luxury submarine. build helipads at my kundanoor, kakkanad and gudalore properties.
buy a mi-38 helicopter for local uses. contract a chartered company for temporary use and for regular maintenance.
buy a royal enfield machismo-500.
keep a scorpio at tripunithura home.
buy a range rover and keep it at kundanoor.
buy a black rolls royce phantom and keep it at kakkanad.
buy the dream seaside property at north paravur and build a jetty there.
get a mahindra bolero invader 4x4 with sand tires over there. also an atv and a water scooter.
at the gudalore estate get a mahindra 4x4 jeep converted like willys.
get a second hand an-32 that can carry even a truck in it.
go to usa and buy a hummer h1 with special offroad tracks. also get a harley davidson.
wherever i go , i fly in my bombardier and my ride follows in my an32.
get a lifetime membership in manchester united football club. go on a world cruise in queen mary 2.
go to dubai and buy the indian island in world island project.

letting imagination fly- dreams reloaded!!!!

2008-02-05T19:52:00.000+05:30

i am not talking about the truly great and how they dream with their eyes open and thus conquer the world. it is far from that context. i am telling of how we can create imaginary worlds where we can rest and escape from the hassles of our normal world. the serious disciplined may say that this is day dreaming , and i do agree with them.
after all what is wrong with day dreaming??
being a consummate sloth and an accomplished master in the art of laziness i do lot of day dreaming. but day dreaming attained a totally important significance when i happened upon dr. hannibal lecter. now any one acquainted with this magnificent creation of thomas harris will agree that this is one truly remarkable specimen. apart from his eccentric culinary tastes and his immense analytical capabilities the feature that most captivated me was his mnemonics.

mnemonics , according to definition is any set of tools or techniques that are used to facilitate in the increase of memory powers. now mr. lecter has taken that to wholly new levels. the book describes how being imprisoned in the baltimore asylum, mr. lecter kept himself occupied by his strain of mnemonics. he preserved his sanity and the shine of his cerebrum by immersing himself in a mnemonic castle where he preserved all his memories. being the consummate connoisseur all his passions and loves and knowledge he preserved in the rooms of his mental castle. all his favorite memories , all his favorite scents, favorite musics, books, people, everything he associated with items in that castle. when he had to recollect some details of clarice starling, he merely revisited the relevant room and gazed upon a symbolic painting and the details of it brought back the old memories , kinda like clicking a link in a webpage.

now isnt that absolutely remarkable? the catch is most of us do not have the cranial facilities of the fictional dr. hannibal lecter. so being a mere mortal i wondered how can i use this idea? so i hit upon the creation of my own virtual worlds where i cane scape when i am in the midst of the craziness that is daily life. i started imagining scenarios, situations, pleasures , horrors, (sometimes extremely kinky stuff too!!!) and this started occupying my mind, the mind of a basically introvert person. now these ideas slowly started stimulating my creativity. sometimes i would imagine myself to be the head of a highly militarized india and the means by which i would go about for global domination through military and diplomatic means. the entire plan would be made consulting a ttk world atlas!!! i would chart locations of force concentrations, locate bases, chart attack vectors and plot troop movements. by the time i am done my hapless atlas would be crisscrossed by a web of meaningless pencil marks and i will have to spend time rubbing them all off. god knows where that atlas is now!!!
then i started designing military bases with complete infrastructure details designed by me and modus operandi charted out. at school my friend renji and me were quite adept at it and even now that crazy bastard reminds me of those and we have a laugh.
i started designing institutions like schools, universities, hotels and ships. it was a lot of fun!!! all this meaningless crap defined my otherwise boring life. i loved to draw even though my drawings basically suck. still i drew for the pleasure of drawings, mostly with pencil.
my greatest designing work was a complete cruise liner i designed in my first year of engineering. it was a 15 storied super cruise liner. i designed all floors to the inch. i made templates of outer structure and filled each floor with necessary details.
the lifts matched, the stairs matched and there was even a two storied golf course beneath the sea level!!!! i also calculated the crew necessary to run it and emergency procedures, the complete works!!!! and the funny thing is after designing all the levels when i finally drew the entire ship acc to plan it sucked!!!! it was so ugly!!!!!!!!!!
i had a great laugh over that!!!!!

anyway nowadays i am more into gazillion dollar dreams, imagination of what all things i will do if i get a gazillion (close to infinity) amount of money the next day morning. u might think it is mundane, but i will regale with some of them. so stay in touch if u havent already applied to a cell near dr. hannibal lecter.

freemasonry and outsourcing- what a combination !!!!!

2008-02-04T20:58:00.000+05:30

dont worry i am not promulgating some wild goose chase story of penetration of freemasons into the outsourcing industry.
the title is just the description of my day, today.
today i attended a job interview for a bpo company and i also met a freemason.

the job interview happened first so that i shall narrate.
i used my friend's scooter as my father needed ours. pleasant ride over all, considering the aweful traffic of ernakulam roads. i reached the 6th floor office of the firm, filed my name in a roster and joined some 4 other guys waiting for the interview. all those guys were prim and smart in their appearances while i was in my bohemian best!!! i though appearances wont matter, and i guess it didnt.
i waited for my chance and when i was interviewed i was comfortable, confident and gave a casual interview. the interviewer , who later learned was an mba from rajagiri college, and a trashy one at that, snuffed me off by saying that my grammer is poor. now that was the last thing i expected!!! she also said my "5" back papers were a problem too. well what to say, she made me wait another 20 humid minutes in a fanless room with 7 other hopelesses and finally it was the door for me.
it was a definite anti climax. in fact i was glad to escape from there. they apparrently had no openings at ernakulam and had vacancy only at chennai!!! now damned if i have to go to chennai to work at an out sourcing company!!!!!
later after a heavy lunch and a post lunch siesta at the public library i left for the freemason meeting.
the meet was in wellingdon island, an exotic location for a tripunithuraite like me. it was a pleasant ride with minimal traffic and a overcast sky, and a sweet breeze. i could have been lulled to sleep if i hadnt been riding a rackety scooter!!!
i had trouble finding the office but i found it in time and had an excellent meeting.
the distinguished old man who is the lodge master of ernakulam lodge of freemasons is also apparently the no.2 freemason in india!!!! it was an excellent conversation of about 30 mins and i was hooked. he gave me a card and a pamphlet and told me about the commitments that i would have to make. the rs. 8k starting and rs.2k annual fee really scared me off, but not as much was the dress code which required me wearing a black coat, black pants, white shirt, black belt, black socks and black shoes!!!!!!!!!!!
doesnt it make men in blacks ashamed!!!!!!!!!!
anyway after a pleasant chat with that nice old man i cam home to a cozy bath and my comp.
pretty uneventful ever since.

to think that this is an organisation that is about 1000 years old, dating from the knights templar of crusades, and consisting of such illustrious people as former members as da vinci, galielo, newton, george washington, swami vivekananda, c rajagopalachari etc, it is quite overwhelming.

and to think that an organisation that i thought to be predominantly a christian european phenomena flourishing here, and being so secular at it too!!!!!!
it is indeed amazing and i do hope that someday i can list my name with the creed of freemasonry.

the magic of road

2008-02-03T17:07:00.000+05:30

we all use road, the endless stretch of asphalt, rock and bitumen. but have we ever wondered the magic that is a road? a road unifies all corners of the globe. even islands they have roads continuing from ports and airports and the ports and airports are mere links between networks of roads. it wonders me that the road outside of my home in kochi can lead me directly in front of the buckingham palace, without any port/air port linkages!!!!!! the road that i use is the part of the same network of roads that was used by uncle laden when he was evading us troops in an ambulance!!!!
the road where i walk today has been walked by countless people before me and shall eb walked by countless people after me. what all fortunes would have been made or destroyed by people walking this very road? what all ideas may have originated in people who were walking along this very road?
to the quintessential unrequited romantic like me, it is a wonder to imagine that the girl of my dreams may be currently walking on another road that is linked to my road!!! so all that separates us is maybe some kilometers of tarmac, maybe in decimels or maybe in thousands.

when i walk on the road and see the endless stretch of tarmac before me i see the very best of human will. a road is constructed by sheer human will and strength. i am reminded of all those mountains leveled for a road to pass through, all those rivers bridged and rocks tunneled so that man is connected with his fellow man. nature has been forced to make way for the will of man and the product has been magical.
sometimes i wish that i had some supernatural powers, not that i want to fly, but that i must be able to transmit myself through road to any point on the road network much like how an electric charge travels through a conductor. the potholes and landslides wont matter because they are mere resistances and not dielectrics in the original conducting surface.
with the mere thought i can reach the louvre, i can see the big ben, i can walk beside the sexy women of vienna, i can travel alongside the speedsters of german autobahn, i can walk beside my dearest wherever she maybe!!!!

now whoever would think that this simple black connundrum of tar, rock and gravel can have such magic? the recipient of countless garbage, spittoon for the multitudes, the road, yes, is dirty. but withing the dirtiest coal block lies the brightest diamond, and should not we seek the see the diamond rather than the mountain of dirt covering it? isnt that what makes our lives happy?

what is the destiny of the human species?

2008-02-03T00:18:00.001+05:30

today when we are all so worked up about global warming and about saving the planet for future generations, i cant help but feel cynically pessimistic about our high hopes and lofty aspirations about human destiny.
is there anyone who is deluded to think that we, human beings can exist forever? in cosmic terms human society has not lasted for even an eye wink, and how longer do we aspire to survive?
perhaps human destiny is not to exist forever but to prolong our existence for as long as it can. and once we are extinct why should we care about the planet?
speaking of human destiny i review the epic words spoken by the indomitable agent smith in the matrix 1. he spoke of how human beings are the parasites that feed on the planet earth. how human beings need to multiply in numbers to survive as a civilization. now is that not true? we live on an island where our population is ever increasing and the resources are being depleted faster than it can ever be replenished. the graph is almost logarithmic in curve.
the past 150 years have seen more development than the entire 5000 years or so before. how did this logarithmic increase in technology and life happen? is it some sort of magnificent postlude of human civilization? all this knowledge, all this technology all these scientific wonders?

well whatever it may mean, one need not definitely worry about it. after all why worry about something that is inevitable!!! we just have to live our lives being honest to ourselves.

adisankara, the great hindu sage had once said of human beings, " it is our greatest folly in considering our lives as the very center of the universe when in fact we are so insignificant in cosmic proportions and reckonings." appending to that swami vivekananda said, " true , and it is that characteristic which is the single greatest laudable aspect of human beings. even though we are so insignificant we live our lives so well being absolutely honest to our selves. if we consider ourselves insignificant why would anyone strive for perfection, goodness or any noble qualities?"
we strive for these qualities only because we believe that it can actually make a difference.

is that not greatness?

well i think so.

first post.

2008-02-03T00:15:00.000+05:30

ahoy!!! the unsuspecting unfortunate reader. let me warn you that you will be facing a lot of drivel from the mind of a person who has been certified as insanely crazy by his friends unanimously and abjectly stupid by his teachers and a total loser by the world in general.
so while you have the bandwidth use them at a more productive blog or a website.